The Case of the Nefarious Necklace
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: A creepy mystery for the autumn season. Gene Torg and Pearl Chute from The Bogus Books have stumbled across some eerie jewelry that they don't want to keep. They leave it at Perry's office for safekeeping. While Perry deals with a disturbing case brought to him by Aaron Stuart from The Decadent Dean, Della starts behaving rather strangely.
1. Ellena

**Perry Mason**

 **The Case of the Nefarious Necklace**

 **By Lucky_Ladybug**

 **Notes: The characters from the show are not mine. Ellena and the basic story idea are Harry2's. The rest is mine! Harry2 brought this idea to me three years ago, when I was working on** _ **The Malevolent Mugging**_ **. I was interested and we planned for it a bit. I posted the first scene on Livejournal back then, but I didn't feel I could write the story in full until I finished the then-current story. That didn't happen until this year. So now it's finally time to tell Harry2's idea. I hope he likes what I've done with it! As with the episodes themselves, two of the oneshot characters must carry the first two scenes of this chapter alone to set up the plot. The main characters overall will of course be the main characters from the series, but characters from** _ **The Bogus Books**_ **and** _ **The Decadent Dean**_ **will also be important. This does follow my** _ **Perry**_ **timeline, but the previous stories shouldn't need to be read. However, the characters have had several experiences with the paranormal by now and even Hamilton is forced to start believing in it. The setting is the present-day, since the series is not a period piece, but I try to keep the feel of the series anyway.**

 **Chapter One**

"They're beautiful. Where did you say you got them?"

Pearl Chute held the emerald earrings to the light, intrigued as the hanging gems sparkled and shimmered under the glow.

Gene Torg, her close friend and former partner-in-crime, shrugged. "Some oddball palmed them off on me. The necklace too. And I'm telling you, Pearl, he was scared for his _life._ " He started to pace the room, his hands in his pockets. "There has to be something wrong with the stuff. I was planning to get rid of it before you came in."

"Oh, Gene, why must you always be so cautious?" Pearl began to remove her own earrings to try on the new ones. "I agree that something must be wrong, but surely you're exaggerating. They're probably hot and he was worried about going to jail."

"Like you should be, after serving time for your part in Old Man Kraft's book racket," Gene retorted. "But no, Pearl, he wasn't just worried about going to jail. He really, honestly thought he was going to die, the way he kept jumping all over the place and looking over his shoulder."

"If you were so suspicious, why did you accept the jewelry in the first place?" Pearl wondered.

"He shoved the bag at me and ran off. I tried to catch him but I couldn't, so I decided to at least see what had got him so upset. And I couldn't really see what it was out there. I thought it'd be better to look at it back at the apartment."

"It was," said Pearl as she applied the earrings and admired herself in the mirror over the mantel. "If you'd looked at them out there, you probably would have got rid of the bag then and there."

"That's what I probably should have done." Gene stopped pacing and gave her a pleading look. "Pearl, you know I'm really trying to go straight this time. You said you were going to try, too."

Pearl sighed in exasperation and turned to face the agitated man. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, Gene! I _am_ going to try. But we don't actually know there's anything wrong with these emeralds. I haven't heard about any stolen lately. At least give me a few minutes to enjoy them before we have to give them up." She reached for the necklace. "The only person who knows you have them is that strange man, right?"

Gene rocked on his heels. "Well, yes, but he could decide to call the police and get them off his back, or call the rightful owner, or any number of things that would get us in trouble. Or more specifically, _me,_ since I was the one there!"

"You didn't even go to jail for your part in the book racket, miniscule though it was." Pearl held the necklace up to the mirror, admiring it as she had the earrings. "And it was mainly because you had absolutely no idea the book was worth more than a few dollars and you wouldn't have taken it if you'd known. Joseph Kraft's niece was nice enough to not want to prosecute you. Not to mention that no one could corroborate your conversation with Mr. Kraft when you took the book back to negotiate our deal."

Gene frowned, a bit of hurt flickering in his eyes. "What's your point, Pearl? Are you saying that even if I'm caught for something I didn't do, I should take the rap because I didn't get the other one and you did?"

Pearl frowned too. "That's not what I meant at all."

"That's what it sounded like." Gene turned away. "And if you really didn't mean that, what _did_ you mean?"

"I just mean that you should settle down for a few minutes. Of course I don't want you to get into trouble, Sweet. If I really thought that would happen, I'd take these off right now." Pearl approached him from behind, resting her hands on his shoulders. "You believe me, don't you?"

Gene stiffened, but then relaxed and sighed. "Yes, I believe you."

"Good." Pearl snapped on the necklace. "Oh. Oh my."

Gene spun around just in time to see her sway to the side. Stunned, he reached and caught her. "What happened?" he exclaimed in worried disbelief.

Pearl tried to steady herself in his arms. "I guess all these emeralds must have gone to my head," she said. "When I put the necklace on, suddenly I got dizzy." She leaned in close, kissing him on the lips. "Maybe it really is dangerous."

"It certainly wouldn't surprise me." Gene hesitated, then returned the kiss.

Without warning Pearl's eyes flickered and she struck out, slapping him hard. "What's the deal, Buster?!" she cried. "I don't like you gettin' fresh."

He fell back, his jaw dropping at the display. "Pearl?! What are you talking about?" He brought a hand to his sore cheek. "If that was your idea of a joke, it wasn't funny!"

"Who's joking? And who's Pearl?" Her hands went to her hips. "My name's Ellena."

Gene was starting to feel very strange. There was something odd in the room, a sense of another presence. An unwelcome, unfriendly presence.

Frowning, he moved forward and reached for her again. "Pearl, I really don't appreciate the way you're acting tonight." His eyes narrowed. "You insist on trying that jewelry on when I want to get rid of it, you act like you're criticizing me for staying out of jail, and now you're treating me like I'm a complete stranger!"

"You are," Pearl retorted. "I've never seen you before in my life. And quit callin' me Pearl, will you? I'm telling you, I'm _Ellena!_ "

A chill ran up Gene's spine. The look he was receiving from Pearl was utter blankness and anger, as though he really was a stranger. And Pearl, who was normally as cultured as the objects whose name she bore, was now talking like a tough girl with a mixture of French and Southern accents.

He took a step back. Pearl had acted like Pearl until she had put on that necklace. Well, unless he wanted to say that her criticism of him from before had also not seemed like her. But he admittedly could picture her saying those things, under certain circumstances. Everything she had said and done after applying the necklace, on the other hand, was not her in the least. If she were aware of it, she would never behave like this.

But how could she not be aware of it? The only other explanation would be if something in the necklace really had given her a whole new identity and personality. And that was absolutely ridiculous and impossible.

Wasn't it?

"Well, what are you standing around here for?" Pearl demanded now. "I don't want you here. Go on, get out!"

Gene's eyes flashed with indignation. "This happens to be _my_ apartment!" he shot back. "If you don't want to be around me, _you're_ the one who should leave." He crossed his arms. "And if you _are_ someone named Ellena, what did you do with Pearl?"

"I don't know no Pearl." Pearl turned away, heading towards the door. "And I'm gonna leave. Don't you worry about that."

Gene silently followed after her, extending a hand to try to undo the clasp at the back of her neck. This had started with the necklace. He had to see if it would end without the necklace. And in any case, he could not let Pearl leave this building in her delusional condition.

Pearl shot out, grabbing his wrist in a deathgrip and twisting it while digging in her fingernails. "Don't you dare touch me," she hissed. "Don't you _ever_ try to touch me again!"

Gene cried out, jerking his injured wrist back. But he opted to ignore the pain and dash after Pearl, tackling her to the floor.

"If you are Ellena," he growled while trying to wrestle her down, "you're walking off with my friend Pearl's body. I don't appreciate that. And I don't think Pearl would, either!"

Her face contorted in rage and anger. Just as he struggled to take hold of the clasp, she snatched a heavy lamp from off the end table and brought it down on his head.

Pain and agony spread across his features. He slumped over on the floor, the necklace coming off in his hand.

Pearl sat up in the next moment, blinking, bewildered. "What's . . . what happened? Gene?" She went sheet-white at the sight of him lying on the carpet, so still and quiet. _"Gene!"_ Shaking, she gripped his shoulder. "Gene, wake up. I'm sorry, Gene. I didn't mean those things I said. Honestly, I didn't! And I didn't mean to hit you. I don't know _why_ I hit you. I never wanted to hurt you!" She turned him onto his back. "Gene, _please._ Please wake up! Please. . . ." Her voice quavered and broke as she touched his cheek.

Gene's eyes fluttered and opened. "Pearl?" he mumbled. "Is it really you this time? Not . . . not that Ellena?"

"I don't even know who Ellena is!" Pearl cried. "But when I put on that necklace it felt like . . . like something jumped into my body. I couldn't control anything I said or did. Oh Gene . . ." She bent down, still trembling as she embraced him. "I thought she _. . . I . . ._ one of us killed you!"

Gene drew her close. "I'm alright," he said. He grimaced. "Well, no. Correction—I'll be alright as soon as everything stops pounding through my head. And Pearl . . ." He looked up at her with pleading eyes. " _Please_ tell me you're done with the necklace. The earrings too."

"Yes!" Pearl exclaimed. "I don't want them anymore. If the necklace is cursed, the earrings probably are too." She knelt up, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she took the earrings off. They dropped to the floor, bouncing off the carpet near the necklace.

Gene eased himself into a sitting position, a hand held to the back of his head. "I'll take them away," he vowed. "I'll put them back near where that mysterious man handed them to me. I'll drop them down in a crack or something so no one will find them. They're too dangerous for _anyone_ to use."

"I'll come with you, Sweet," Pearl said tearfully. "You're in no condition to drive. And it's all my fault."

Gene looked at her, both stunned and touched by her sorrow and regret. He had to admit, the image of an infuriated Pearl bringing the lamp down on his head was probably going to haunt his dreams for a while. Those few minutes with Ellena had been positively frightening.

"Alright," he consented. "Help me up and we'll go."

Pearl nodded in full agreement. After gathering the jewelry into the old bag Gene had brought it back in, Pearl got to her feet and helped Gene by letting him lean on her for balance. She drew an arm around his waist as he stood.

"Gene," she whispered, and she was completely sobered and sincere, not the usual coquette. "Can you ever forgive me?"

He looked at her, moved by her distress. He drew her close to him.

"Ellena, probably not," he quipped. Growing serious himself, he continued, "But you, Pearl? Yes, I forgive you."

And she smiled with relief and joy.

xxxx

The spot where Gene had received the mysterious jewelry was near the mouth of Topanga Canyon. Pearl followed his directions and finally arrived at the spot, frowning at the dark and rather eerie scenery. Outside, the early autumn winds howled through the trees, bending and twisting them into unsettling positions. The air had smelled of oncoming rain in the city; up here the scent was much stronger.

"It couldn't be more like a horror flick if it tried," Pearl muttered, gripping the steering wheel. "Why were you up at a place like this?"

"Well . . ." Gene gave a helpless shrug. "There was a cabin for sale up here, cheap, and I thought I'd come up here to look at it. Maybe if it was decent enough, I'd get it and . . . I don't know, come up on weekends or something."

"Real estate in Topanga Canyon is not cheap," Pearl scoffed, "unless there's some unpleasant reason why it's for sale."

"I know," Gene retorted. "The place looks nice enough, but then I found out it'd been owned by a guy named Tobin Wade. I thought I remembered he got murdered up there, so I was going to come back and look it up. On the way down, I ran into this nut with the jewelry."

"Oh brother." Pearl shook her head. "You really know how to pick 'em. You're right about Tobin Wade being murdered. That's probably why the place hasn't sold. But by now it's been three or four years since then. How come you only heard about it now?"

Gene shrugged. "It was on the market again after being sold at least once since his death. The person I talked to was really freaked about something. She tried to say that living in the canyons wasn't for her and she kept hearing all kinds of spooky noises. I was ready to laugh it off, even knowing that Wade had been murdered, but after this deal with the necklace, I don't even know anymore."

Pearl understood completely and even shared his feelings. She wasn't one to believe in ghosts, but something was very wrong with that necklace. They both just wanted it gone.

"Okay," she said, changing the subject, "so where are you going to get rid of this jewelry?"

"Let's drive up this road near his cabin," Gene suggested. "There's a cliff not far from there. Maybe I'll just throw it in the water."

"It could always wash up on shore," Pearl sighed. "If the idea is to really get rid of it so no one else will have to deal with it, then it'd be better to bury it somewhere. Preferably _not_ on somebody's private property."

"It could always be dug up," Gene objected.

"Alright, Mr. Wise Guy. What else do you suggest?" Pearl asked.

"I don't know." Gene leaned on the inside of the door, running a hand through his hair. "This whole experience has been a nightmare. I wish I'd never accepted the sack!" 

"Hmm." Pearl drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "You could always leave it for someone who might know how to deal with it a whole lot better than we do."

Gene blinked and turned to look at her. "And just who would that be?"

"How about that lawyer, Perry Mason?" Pearl said cleverly. "You've had encounters with him before and know that he's basically honest. He'd never sell the jewelry to make a profit on it."

"Oh, come on, Pearl," Gene objected. "Mason wouldn't sell it, sure, but would he really believe that we're carrying possessed jewelry?"

Pearl shrugged. "It's worth a try. At least you wouldn't be leaving it for some random innocent to find and try on."

Gene heaved a frustrated sigh of resignation. "You're right. Okay, let's try Mason and see what he says."

"Good." Pearl started the engine and turned the car around. "I don't want to spend another minute in this creepy place."

xxxx

Della was reorganizing things in her office when she heard the outer door open. While it wasn't unusual to have visitors to Perry's office so late, Della felt herself tense just slightly. She had to wonder just what sort of story the visitors would tell this time and what Perry might end up getting dragged into. Not to mention, Perry wasn't here at the moment and that could go good or bad depending on what the visitors wanted of him.

"Hello?" called a vaguely familiar voice as a nervous knock came on Della's door.

She set a stack of folders to the side of her desk. "Come in," she called back.

The last thing she was expecting was for Gene Torg and Pearl Chute to enter the room. Gene was clutching a brown paper bag so tightly his knuckles were white. "Is your boss in?" he asked uneasily.

"No, he isn't," Della replied, instantly on guard. Gene Torg was a con artist and petty thief whom Perry had tangled with on two prior occasions. Seeing him was more than enough to set off alarm bells in Della's mind, and when he was accompanied by the much more devious Pearl Chute, that alarm only increased tenfold.

"Any idea when he'll be back?" Gene pressed. "It's really quite urgent."

"He's meeting with a client right now," Della said. "He might be another hour or more."

Gene exchanged a distressed look with Pearl, who decided it was time to take charge. "Well, look," she said, "we don't really need to talk with him. We just need to leave these things here for him to deal with when he sees fit." She indicated the bag Gene was gripping.

Della raised an eyebrow. "I see," she said slowly. "Mr. Mason might not agree to look after your belongings. I'll need to know something to tell him about why you want him to 'deal with' them."

"Tell him they're dangerous!" Gene exclaimed. "Some guy gave them to me tonight and he was running scared for his life! And with good reason!"

"What are 'they'?" Della frowned, images of stolen merchandise dancing through her mind.

"A necklace and a pair of earrings," Gene said, opening the bag to let her look. "I'll admit I'm not sure about the earrings, but there's something wrong with the necklace."

"Wrong? It's gorgeous." Della reached into the bag and lifted it out, gazing at it in wonder.

"Take our advice, Honey—don't try it on," Pearl interjected. "Don't do anything with it except lock it in the safe until Mr. Mason comes back. He can call either Gene or myself and we'll tell him the full story."

Della replaced the necklace in the bag. "You said someone gave you these things," she said to Gene. "Are they stolen?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Gene answered helplessly. "That isn't why I said they were dangerous."

Della slowly shook her head as she walked back to her desk. "I'm sorry, Mr. Torg. I really don't think Mr. Mason would be interested in your case."

"Because I've done a few petty wrong things in the past?" Gene retorted. "It's not like I was ever in the big league or something. And I'm trying to go straight now; you can check with Pearl or anyone else who knows me! Check with the police!" He followed her over, his eyes filled with desperation. "Please, Miss Street, just take this until Mr. Mason comes back. If he doesn't want to help us after he hears our story, then fine. But give _him_ the chance to say No; don't say it for him!"

Della stared at him. He seemed truly frightened. From Pearl's tense expression, she was worried too.

"What would it hurt?" Pearl spoke now. "If Mr. Mason believes us, I don't think he'd want you to turn us away."

Della's lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't like a near-stranger telling her what Perry would want. Still, she was a compassionate person and their distress touched her heart. "Alright," she said at last. "Leave the bag here, along with the numbers where you can be reached. I'll tell Mr. Mason about it as soon as he gets in."

If there was ever a physical sight of someone having a burden removed from their shoulders, it was in the way Gene's eyes brightened and he straightened up. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, setting the bag on Della's desk and reaching for a small pad of Post-It notes. "Thank you, Miss Street."

"Of course," Della said, all the while hoping she wasn't going to regret this.

She waited until after they had both given their numbers and she had given them a receipt before picking up the bag to relocate to the safe. They were gratefully departing the office and no one else was around, but as she carried the bag into the law library, it sounded like a faint voice coming from the direction of the bag.

" _Della . . . I'm Ellena."_

She stopped walking and frowned. Was there an electronic device attached to one of the pieces of jewelry? Maybe one of the earrings was a receiver and the other was a transmitter. But Gene had said it was the necklace to be wary of, hadn't he?

Holding the bag with one hand, she lifted the contents one at a time and carefully inspected them in the light. If any of them were concealing any kind of electronic device, she couldn't see it. Maybe she would have Paul come up later and scan them. Or maybe not—she could have easily been imagining things. It was late and she was tired and now she needed to wait for Perry to come back from Manzana Valley in order to give him this bizarre message.

She opened the safe and placed the bag inside before quickly locking it in. As she straightened, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Something about that bag and its contents made her nervous.

That was probably just because Gene Torg had brought it in, though. And because it was probably stolen merchandise.

Still, as she walked back to her office, she couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps it was something more.


	2. Hauntings

**Notes: Amos Berry is the guy from** _ **The Borrowed Baby**_ **episode who could never hear Perry's name right. The mention of Sergeant Brice's relative who is also a police officer is a reference to the early Sergeant Brice character played by Chuck Webster in two season 2 episodes. I've decided to see him as a different character than Lee Miller's Sergeant Brice, instead of the same character played by a different actor. The scene between Brice and Della is inspired by a scene they share in the uncut version of** _ **The 12th Wildcat.**_ **There's clearly an untold story behind that!**

 **Chapter Two**

"There you go, Mr. Drake. It just needed a little touch-up work. Now it's running good as new."

Paul Drake smiled, pleased, as the chief mechanic at Amos Berry's car shop handed him the keys to his convertible. "Thanks, Dave," he said. "Tip-top service, as always."

David nodded, wiping his hands on a greasy cloth. "What happened to get the steering so off-kilter in the first place?"

Paul gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, you know, the usual—chasing a suspect and it didn't go the way I planned. He ran me off the road and I ran over something that choked up the steering."

David shook his head. "I swear, Paul, you and other P.I.s give us the strangest jobs. Last week we had a car in here owned by Joe Mannix and it was a mess. Everything was all twisted up underneath. I didn't know if we were ever going to get it road-worthy again. But we finally patched it up somehow."

Paul was amused. "I've heard Joe Mannix has a bad reputation for having trouble with crooks on the road. Now, on the other hand, I don't usually have that kind of problem."

"I'll give you that," David conceded. "But when you do have trouble with a car, it's a real lulu." He set the cloth aside. "So where are you off to now? Perry Mason case?"

"I have a lot of clients, Dave," Paul retorted. "Perry is only one of them."

"But he's also a close friend," David said. "You can't say _that_ about all your clients."

"Touché," Paul admitted. "Anyway, no, Perry's off with a client and hasn't asked me to do any work on the case . . . yet. I was probably going to head home to bed."

"Just wait—in a couple of hours you'll be awakened from a dead sleep and asked to go tail some guy or find out everything you can about a mysterious woman."

"Probably," Paul sighed.

"So who's the client Perry's meeting with?" David asked, leaning on the car.

"Now you know I can't give out that kind of information," Paul said. "Even if I knew it."

"Don't you?"

"I do." Paul stepped over to the car and David moved aside. "Perry's cases have a way of going public eventually, so you might hear about it from the paper in the morning for all I know. But you won't hear about it from me."

David grinned. "Okay, Paul. You know I'd never ask you to do anything illegal or against your principles."

"And that is much appreciated," Paul smiled.

David nodded. As he moved farther away from the car, his eyes glittered in remembrance. "Oh, Amos said that when you have the chance, he wants to talk to you about some classic car he fixed up last week."

"Yeah?" Paul blinked in surprise. "Does he think it's tied in with something crooked?"

"No; I think he just wanted to gab about it with someone else who appreciates classic cars," David answered. With a wry and mischievous smirk he added, "Whether or not he actually hears what you answer back is debatable."

Paul chuckled. "Old Amos will never admit he needs a hearing aid."

"That'd be the day." David turned to leave. "Well, have fun with your car, Paul. Try not to bang it up again too soon."

"Believe me, Dave, that's the last thing I want to do!" Paul declared.

He climbed into his car and inserted the key in the ignition. Through the rearview mirror, he could see David vanishing into the back room.

Now he was an interesting and mysterious character. Which was fitting, since Amos Berry was one of the most unusual and colorful characters Paul did business with. Amos had told Paul that David had turned up some time back looking for work, willing to learn all about the ins and outs of cars, and Amos had been glad to teach him. How they had actually been able to carry on intelligible conversations during the process was a mystery Paul would probably never understand.

Shaking his head at the mental images, he decided to head to the Brent building. If Perry wasn't back from Manzana Valley yet, Della might be around to say Goodnight to. If he knew Della, she would still be in that office, waiting up for Perry. Always the faithful secretary and loyal friend. That was just the way all of them liked it.

xxxx

Manzana Valley had changed in the years since Perry had defended Aaron Stuart for the murder of Tobin Wade and eventually proved him innocent. The community that was just getting started at the end of that case had blossomed into the area its developer had dreamed of. And, as promised, Aaron had his new school—a beautiful, modern campus instead of the converted old house he had used at the beginning.

Perry toured the grounds in appreciation, pleased to see what had happened and pleased to see Aaron's enthusiasm and love for the new Manzana Valley Prep School. His wife Marian proudly served as secretary, even though now there was certainly enough money to hire someone else. Aaron preferred to have his wife fill the position and be able to spend each working day with her.

The tour was lengthy but impressive. Aaron, while genuinely proud of the campus, seemed to be stalling for time. But eventually there was nothing more to see and they returned to Aaron's office. Aaron shut the door, giving them complete privacy at last.

"Well, Aaron," said Perry, "this has all been very fascinating. But you sounded so upset on the phone that I know you didn't bring me down here just to tour the facilities."

Aaron sighed and nodded. "You're right, Perry." He sank down at his desk. "I've already gone over the office to make sure it isn't bugged."

"Bugged?" Perry raised an eyebrow. "This must be serious."

"It is. The school hasn't been open for very long and everything was going fine for a while, but then strange things started to happen."

"What kinds of strange things?" Perry frowned.

"Oh . . . items disappearing and then reappearing where they weren't left, voices in the halls, mysterious music from nowhere . . ." Aaron shook his head and threw up his hands. "The students are starting to spread stories that the campus is haunted and that it's probably built on some ancient Native American burial ground."

"But you don't believe that," Perry prompted.

"Of course not!" Aaron scoffed. "A human being has to be behind this. If Tobin were still alive, I'd say he was doing it just to get back at me. As it is, I have no idea who could be doing this. I'm having new checks run on all the staff, even though I did that when they first applied for the positions."

"That's a very good idea," Perry nodded. "What is it you would like me to do?"

"Well . . . what I'd really like is for someone to try to infiltrate, get to know the staff, see if there's something they might end up revealing to someone they didn't know was reporting to me," Aaron said. "And I'd also like someone to be on the outside, trying to find out if it's someone not on the staff who's doing this."

"That's fair enough," Perry said. "Attack the problem from both sides."

"Can you arrange it, Perry?" Aaron asked, half-rising from his chair in hopefulness.

"Oh, definitely," Perry said. "I'll have Paul investigate on the outside. And he can certainly have someone assigned to talk to the staff."

"Wonderful. There's an autumn masquerade dance coming up soon," Aaron said. "All of the staff will be there."

"That would make an excellent social setting for a casual interrogation," Perry declared.

"I was hoping you'd say that. You're welcome to come too, if you'd like," Aaron said. "Just to sort of oversee it all. You could bring your secretary, Miss Street. And if nothing happens, well, at least maybe it would be a nice break from all the chaos."

"I'm sure Della would greatly enjoy that," Perry said. "We don't get a lot of time to attend parties and celebrations."

"I didn't think you did," Aaron said. "You're always so busy; I'm always hearing about you in the paper and on the news."

Perry nodded noncommittally but then hesitated. "So how have you been, Aaron?" he asked abruptly. "I mean _really._ No façades, no frills."

Aaron looked surprised by the sudden question, but then the surprise faded. "Oh . . . things have been good, for the most part. Marian and I are happy, the school is wonderful, the staff is . . . hopefully exceptional in a good way . . . I thought so before all this started to happen. . . ." He shook his head. "After the mess with Tobin, it's hard to know who you can trust anymore."

"It would be," Perry said sympathetically. "He seemed to have been a genuine friend of yours for years before greed got to him."

"That's the hardest thing about it," Aaron said, sadness slipping into his voice as he looked away at the wall. "He and Marian and I were very good friends for many years. I think there was a time when he would have given his life for either of us. And then to think of what he tried to do to us at the end . . ." He shook his head, gripping a pencil tightly in his hand. "I know what a temptation money can be, especially after all our struggles to try to make ends meet with the old school, but to try to destroy your friend's school, his reputation, and another friend's triumph over alcoholism, all to close the school and get money from the sale of the real estate . . . I'd never dream of such a thing!"

"No honorable person would," Perry said.

Aaron's visage darkened. "I don't know what happened to the Tobin Wade Marian and I knew. I guess he ceased to exist when Tobin decided he loved money more than us. Sometimes Marian said she felt our Tobin was still in there somewhere and he would no doubt regret what he did to us once he was on the other side. If there _is_ anything else after death."

"You don't believe that?" Perry asked.

"I'm a scholar, an intellectual," Aaron replied. "I believe there's good and bad arguments on both sides. I'm not sure anyone can know the truth for sure until they've died themselves, and I'm not anxious for that experience."

Perry half-smiled. "Most people aren't."

"As for Tobin . . ." Aaron scoffed. "It's a nice thought, but as far as I'm concerned, that's all it is—a thought. After the way he so thoroughly turned against us, I have a hard time believing he could ever come to care about us again."

Perry nodded. "That's understandable. Although I suppose if he could change one way, it's possible that he could change back the other way."

Aaron nodded noncommittally. "It's technically _possible,_ " he agreed. "I just don't think it's probable. Not considering what Tobin did without any apparent conscience or regret.

"Well, enough of that," he went on abruptly, tossing the pencil aside. "Thank you for agreeing to help, Perry. I just hope we can find out who's behind this without another tragedy happening."

Perry nodded again, diplomatically setting the subject aside even though he was still concerned. What Aaron had been through courtesy of Tobin Wade had left deep emotional scars, and this new calamity was surely tearing into those wounds anew.

"I hope that as well," he said.

xxxx

Della had gone back to straightening her office when another knock came at her office door. "Come in," she said in surprise.

She smiled when a familiar friend looked in on her as the door opened. "Hi, Della."

"Hello, Sergeant," she warmly greeted Sergeant Brice. "What brings you by this late?"

"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd say hello," Brice answered, stepping into the room.

"Well, I'm glad you did," Della said. "It gets lonely up here when no one else is around."

"Perry and Paul are out working?" Brice shut the door.

"Perry is. Paul went to pick up his car." Della took a stack of folders to the filing cabinet.

"Oh." Brice chuckled. "I heard about that."

"It could have been a lot worse," Della said. "It's a blessing it wasn't."

Brice sobered. After the myriad of disturbing experiences they had been going through, he definitely agreed with that. "You're right," he said. "Paul was lucky."

"So, what's new at the police department?" Della asked. "Any kooky cases?"

"Well, you know I can't talk about the details, but there was something strange tonight." Brice looked thoughtful. "We found a guy laying dead out near Topanga Canyon."

Della's brow furrowed. "Murdered?"

"We're not sure yet," Brice admitted. "He could have slipped and fallen. But a lot of strange things have been happening out there lately. The most disturbing thing about that is that it's always close by Tobin Wade's old cabin."

Della stared at him. "That _is_ strange," she exclaimed. "Does Steve have any idea what's going on?"

"We both figure some joker is trying to make it seem like Wade's ghost is haunting the place," Brice said. "Maybe a prank went too far tonight and the poor guy slipped and fell from fright."

Concern flickered in Della's eyes. "That would be horribly tragic. But why would anyone want to pretend that the cabin is haunted now, after all these years have passed?"

"Who knows," Brice said, shaking his head. "Maybe some kids just heard about it recently and thought it sounded like something fun to toy around with. You know how kids get with haunted house stories."

"Oh yes, I know," Della agreed. But the wheels in her head were turning. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that Perry was out talking to Aaron Stuart about new problems at the new school while back in Los Angeles County, Tobin Wade's cabin was suddenly haunted.

"Are you okay, Della?"

She snapped to attention, seeing Brice looking at her in concern. "Oh. Yes, Sergeant, I'm fine," she insisted. "I was just thinking."

"Do _you_ have an idea about what might be going on?" Brice studied her with new curiosity.

"Maybe," Della said slowly, "but I'll need to run it past Perry before I say anything."

Brice smiled. "Okay, I understand. But you'll let me know if it looks like it might have anything to do with this case?"

"Of course," Della smiled back.

Brice was easy to talk to and fairly easy-going when it came to being friends with Perry and company as well as staying loyal to the police department. If it were up to him, he would probably be a little more lax than any of the Lieutenants were when it came to giving information to Perry, Della, and Paul, but he deferred to what the Lieutenants wanted when they were in charge, since he respected them and that _was_ procedure. On his own, however, he gave Perry's crew a bit more leeway. Perhaps that was one reason why Della enjoyed his company.

They chatted for a few minutes more, mostly with small talk now. Della asked him about his uncle, who was also a Los Angeles police officer, and he inquired after Della's aunt, whom she had visited recently. When he left, needing to get back to the station, Della was in a much happier mood than she had been after Gene and Pearl had departed.

This was how Perry found her when he came in moments later. "Well, hello," he smiled. "You're feeling chipper considering the hour. Usually by now you're more than ready to close up shop and go home."

"Well, I thought I'd do a little organizing," Della replied. "The office has been such a mess lately. And I had some interesting visitors I should tell you about. But first, how did it go with Dr. Stuart?"

Perry sighed and opened the door to his office. "We were right; Aaron has some new problems." He hung his hat on the bust of Voltaire and carried his overcoat to the couch, where he slung it across the top.

Della followed him in, as Perry had known and expected she would. "Oh, that poor man. What is it now?"

"Someone's trying to make it seem that the new school is haunted."

Della's audible gasp made Perry straighten and turn to look at her in surprise. "I wonder if that really could tie in with something Sergeant Brice just told me before you came," she exclaimed.

"Sergeant Brice?" Perry smiled a bit. "Oh, so that's why you were in such a good mood." He sobered just as quickly and folded his arms. "What was it he said?"

"He said that someone's been trying to make it look like Tobin Wade's cabin in Topanga Canyon is haunted," Della told him. "And a man was found dead in that area tonight."

Perry stiffened. "What do they think happened?"

"They're not sure." Della shook her head. "He could have simply fallen while hiking. On the other hand, Sergeant Brice suggested that he could have been frightened by something going on at the cabin and lost his footing. Or, of course, it could have been deliberate murder."

Perry started to pace. "It does sound like far too much of a coincidence," he declared. "Aaron Stuart's school and Tobin Wade's cabin, both 'haunted' all of a sudden."

"And Aaron Stuart and Tobin Wade were most certainly connected," Della added.

"Whatever someone's up to, it must be a very cruel plot," Perry frowned. "I wonder if they want Aaron to think that Wade is haunting him for some reason."

Della suddenly looked worried. "You don't think there's any chance that he might be?"

Perry let out a breath of frustration. "I was always open-minded about the possibility of spirits. Now that we've been learning over the past couple of years that the supernatural world is very much real, I'm afraid it _is_ possible. But Aaron believes a human is behind it, and I think we should stick to that reasoning first and foremost instead of automatically going for the paranormal explanation."

Della nodded. "I think so too. That would be horrible if he really isn't free of that awful man's influence even now."

"Mm hmm," Perry nodded, sounding occupied. He paused at his desk, glancing at the notepad on top. "Gene Torg and Pearl Chute were in to see me?" he exclaimed.

"That's right," Della said, quickly switching to the new subject. "They were both very upset about something. They almost seemed afraid. They had a bag of jewelry with them that they said was dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Perry turned to stare at Della, who nodded.

"That's what they said. And they don't know if it's stolen; someone just gave Mr. Torg the sack, at least according to him. He and Miss Chute practically begged me to take it and have you call them to hear their story." Della sighed. "I don't know if it was the right thing, but I finally agreed."

"So where's the jewelry now?" Perry asked.

"In the safe," Della answered. "I didn't think you'd be interested in the case, but I thought maybe you should at least talk to them. They both seemed so worried."

Perry crossed into the law library and started opening the safe almost before Della was finished talking. She followed him, drawing closer as he hauled the door aside and reached in for the sack.

Again, as before, something felt wrong. The necklace seemed to be calling to her.

" _Della . . . you know you want to try it on. Come on, go ahead and do it!"_

It was almost hypnotic. When Perry lifted out the emerald necklace and studied it in the light, Della started to reach for it with one hand.

If Perry thought Della's actions were strange, he didn't comment. "This is beautiful," he said in amazement. "And most likely stolen."

Perry's words broke through the necklace's spell and Della started, coming back to herself. "That's what I thought," she said. "But I wasn't sure if Gene Torg had been the one to steal it."

"Gene Torg?"

Both Perry and Della jumped a mile as Paul's voice joined the conversation. " _Why_ are you talking about Gene Torg?" Paul exclaimed.

"He brought me a case," Perry said. "Apparently he thinks this necklace is dangerous."

Paul didn't think it was funny. "Maybe that's not so far-fetched as all that. Anything Gene Torg touches becomes a ticking time bomb."

Della regarded him in bewilderment. "I thought he was just a petty criminal."

"Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that he and his lady friend Pearl Chute were dragged into the police station for questioning," Paul replied. "Somebody saw them in the Topanga Canyon area tonight, not far from Tobin Wade's cabin. Some guy was killed up there tonight."

The news shot through Perry like an arrow. "Paul, are you sure?"

"Sergeant Brice was getting the call just as I was pulling up at the building," Paul said.

The telephone abruptly entered the conversation. Della rushed into Perry's office to answer it, the men right on her heels. "Perry Mason's office," she greeted. "Oh." Her eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, he just came back, Mr. Torg. I've been telling him about your visit."

Perry came up next to her and gestured for the receiver. Della handed it over.

"Mr. Torg?" Perry greeted. "What's this about you and Pearl Chute being picked up by the police?"

"We're both at the station right now," Gene exclaimed. "Some Lieutenant Drumm is grilling us about some guy's death and we don't know what to do. We had no idea anyone died up there! All we wanted was to get rid of the jewelry. Then we thought of bringing it to you instead."

"Which you did. Mr. Torg, I want to know more about this jewelry," Perry said.

"We'll tell you the whole story, but not over the phone. And preferably not here!" Gene sounded completely wound up in knots. "Please, Mr. Mason, will you come down here and make sure we're not booked into jail or something?"

"Does Lieutenant Drumm have a reason to book you?" Perry returned.

"I don't know!" Gene cried. "Maybe if you bring the jewelry, it will help show that we're telling the truth. But please, for the love of Heaven, don't let anyone try it on!"

"Now why would I do that?" Perry shot back. "Nevermind. I'm coming right down." He hung up the phone. "Della, bring that sack. We're going to the police station to try to clear up this mess and find out the truth."

Della looked at Perry in surprise. "Are you going to take the case, Chief?"

"I don't know yet," Perry replied. "But the Topanga Canyon angle makes me interested. There's just too many coincidences going on around here right now."

"Would someone _please_ tell me what's going on?!" Paul interrupted.

"On the way," Perry replied, very occupied. "Oh, and Paul, I also need to tell you about a job I want you to do for Aaron Stuart."

"Sure," Paul blinked. "But what's that got to do with Gene Torg?!"

"I wonder." Perry grabbed his coat. "Della, do you have that sack?"

Della, who had gone back to the library and was once again transfixed by the necklace, jumped a mile out of her mind. "Yes!" she called back. Desperately trying to ignore the voice calling to her, she closed the bag and rolled the top over like a child's lunch. She hurried out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her as she caught up to the waiting Perry and Paul at the door.

"What kept you?" Perry asked.

"I was just making sure the safe was locked again," Della said.

Perry nodded. "Good girl." He headed out the door, Della and Paul right behind him.


	3. Warning

**Chapter Three**

Gene Torg was nervously pacing in the interrogation room when Sergeant Brice opened the door and admitted Perry and Della. Lieutenant Steve Drumm, who was sitting at the table in exasperation, looked up as well. "Hello, Perry. You might regret coming all the way out here when you hear what Mr. Torg has to say."

"Possibly," Perry said noncommittally. "What _have_ you been saying, Mr. Torg?"

"Did you bring the jewelry?" Gene demanded.

"I have it right here," Della said, holding up the sack.

"Okay, now that was given to me by some kook," Gene said, pointing at the sack. "Maybe he was the guy who ended up getting knocked off; I don't know."

Steve sighed. "We took him to the morgue to try to identify the body, but he isn't sure."

"All I know is that he palmed the stuff off on me and then skipped out," Gene insisted. "I had nothing to do with it! I didn't even want the sack if it was filled with stuff that was such a problem!"

"So why didn't you chase after him and give it back?" Steve said in annoyance.

"I told you, I _did_ chase after him!" Gene retorted. "I couldn't find him! So I brought it back to look at it in the light. Then Pearl tried on the necklace and . . ." He trailed off and looked to Pearl, who was still sitting at the table. She didn't look up.

"Well, Miss Chute?" Perry asked. "What happened when you tried on the necklace?"

"I hurt Gene," Pearl said quietly.

Perry rocked back. "You hurt him? Why?"

"I don't know. The police physician examined him and proved that he was hit on the head, if you don't believe me. And his apartment's still a mess; if you go there, you'll see all the damage we did while we were fighting." Pearl finally looked up again. "He got the necklace off me and that's when I went back to normal."

"Did you ever hear anything like this?" Steve said to Perry. "Apparently the necklace changed Miss Chute's whole personality."

"Oh, it was more than that," Gene said. "She said she was someone else, someone named Ellena!"

That shot a jolt through Della's heart. "Ellena?!" she gasped.

Perry whirled to look at her. "Does that name mean something to you, Della?"

Della looked down at the sack. Somehow she didn't want to admit that she had heard a voice calling to her and identifying itself as Ellena. Maybe when she and Perry were alone again. . . . "No, I'm just surprised," she said. "Who is Ellena?"

"A previous owner of the necklace, I guess," Gene said. "But so after that, Pearl didn't want to keep the stuff either. We drove out to Topanga Canyon thinking we'd dump it there, but we didn't want anyone else to find it and put it on, so we thought maybe we'd bring it to you for safe-keeping." He looked to Perry.

"That's the truth," Pearl insisted. "We had no idea anyone had died up there."

Perry looked to Steve. "Do you have any reason to believe they did, Steve?"

"No, not right now," Steve admitted.

"Then I assume you were just about to release them," Perry prompted.

"Yes, I think we've learned just about everything we're going to from these two," Steve said, getting up.

Gene's shoulder sagged in his relief. "But you will be on hand if we need you?" he pleaded of Perry.

"I don't know, Mr. Torg," Perry said. "You have to admit, it's a bizarre story. You're basically saying that Miss Chute was possessed by the necklace."

"By a spirit _in_ the necklace," Gene corrected. "Oh, I know it's outlandish and it doesn't make sense, but we're telling you the truth, Mason! That's exactly what happened!"

Perry fell silent a moment, interlocking his fingers and gazing down at them. "I recommend that we all go home and think about this overnight," he said. "But I would like to point out one thing, Mr. Torg—if you should need me to represent you officially, I would expect the proper respect from you."

". . . Oh. Of course. I'm sorry, Mr. Mason." Gene ran a hand through his hair. "This evening has been like some kind of nightmare."

Pearl started to push herself up from the table. "Can we go now?"

"Go on," Steve grunted, gesturing to the door. "We'll call you if we need you again."

"I'm sure you will," Pearl replied, brushing past him and to the door. "Coming, Gene?"

"I'm right with you, Pearl." Casting a last grateful look at Perry, Gene hurried after his friend.

Steve got up from the table, shaking his head in disbelief. "Possession," he said, unable to keep the scorn out of his voice.

"I don't know if it's safe to mock it, Steve, after everything we've seen," Perry cautioned.

"Well, maybe not." But Steve still looked derisive. "So, Perry, what are you going to do with that jewelry?"

"Well," Perry replied, "as long as you don't know if the man in the morgue is the one who gave it to Mr. Torg, and as long as I'm unsure whether I'll take Mr. Torg's case—or if there _is_ a case—I suppose I'll keep it in my office safe."

Steve gave a weary nod. "There wouldn't be much hope of getting any useful fingerprints off it now, after all the handling it's had all night long. Go ahead and take it."

"Do you want to look at it, at least?" Perry asked.

Della clutched the sack closer at that suggestion. For some reason, she didn't want to let it out of her hands. She couldn't let it go, not until it was back in the safe.

" _Put the necklace on,"_ the voice prompted in Della's ear.

With the voice came the desire to do what was asked. But Della resisted, gripping the sack as Steve spoke.

"I should," he acknowledged. "Then I could check with robbery and see if anything like it has been reported stolen."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Perry smiled. "Show him, Della."

Obediently Della went forward, opening the bag to let Steve see inside but not removing the contents. Steve came to her, peering in and then carefully lifting out the necklace and earrings. He gave a low whistle. "Well, this looks a little rich for Gene Torg's blood," he said.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Perry said. "I don't think he would have stolen it."

"I agree," Steve said. "But I'll find out if someone did. Hold on a minute." He crossed the room and opened the door. "Sergeant Brice?"

Brice looked up from where he was conversing with Paul. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"See if there's anything on the stolen jewelry list matching these, will you?" Steve held up the necklace and earrings.

Brice raised an eyebrow. "Will do." He looked to Paul. "See you later, Paul. Good luck with your new case."

"Thanks," Paul said.

He walked over to the open door. "So what's going on? We saw Gene Torg and Pearl come out a few minutes ago."

"We didn't have a reason to hold them right now," Steve said wearily as he placed the jewelry back in the sack. No one noticed Della relax when he did.

"Sergeant Brice said they were telling some wild story about that necklace being possessed," Paul said.

"That's right," Perry nodded.

"Surely you don't believe that!" Paul exclaimed.

"I don't know what I believe," Perry said. "I'd say our first priority should be to find out what that necklace is and where it comes from."

"Uh huh. And what if we can't?" Paul looked doubtful.

"Then we should try to find the man who gave it to Mr. Torg, provided he isn't the man who was killed tonight," Perry said.

Paul shook his head. "You're taking this all very calmly."

"How should we take it?" Perry said. "It might not be anything more than a wild fantasy."

"Hamilton Burger would certainly like to believe that," Steve remarked.

"Does he know yet?" Perry asked.

"No, and I don't really want to be the one to tell him," Steve grunted. "The last thing he'll want to hear is that we might be walking into another encounter with the unexplained."

"Understandable. I'm not particularly thrilled about the prospect myself." Perry looked to Paul. "Oh, Paul, were you able to reach any of your operatives?"

Paul nodded. "Pete Kelton is available. He'll ride out to Manzana Valley with me tomorrow and we'll meet with Dr. Stuart."

"Good," Perry said in approval.

"Dr. Stuart?" Steve leaned on the doorframe. "That wouldn't be Dr. Aaron Stuart, the man falsely accused of murdering Tobin Wade in Topanga Canyon?"

"Why, yes," Perry said. "He's still a good friend of ours."

"And I'm guessing you're interested in the rumors that Wade's cabin is haunted?" Steve persisted.

"I'd like to know more about that," Perry nodded.

"There's not a lot to tell," Steve said. "Just the usual—people see lights on at his cabin or hear music or talking. Some of them call the police, since no one's supposed to be up there. The current tenant won't even live there with those things going on. But whenever the police get there, nothing looks out of the ordinary in the least."

"And so you figure it's just kids fooling around?" Perry wondered.

"Pretty much," Steve agreed. "Only if their 'fooling around' resulted in someone being killed, then it's no longer just a harmless kids' game now, is it?"

"It most certainly wouldn't be," Perry said.

"Wait a minute," Paul broke in. "Some people hear talking? Can they make out any words?"

"Not usually," Steve said. "One time someone thought he heard someone say, 'Bring Aaron Stuart,' but he wasn't sure."

"Does Dr. Stuart know about this?" Della interrupted in concern.

"If he did, he didn't mention it to me," Perry said. "My guess is he hasn't heard about it. Maybe I should ride in with you tomorrow, Paul, and tell him."

"Fine with me," Paul said.

"He wouldn't have heard about it from the police," Steve said. "It just seemed like a harmless prank then and the department didn't want to bother him about it."

Before Perry could reply to that, Sergeant Brice returned, looking troubled. "What is it, Sergeant?" Perry asked.

"There's no report of a necklace like that being stolen locally," Brice said slowly.

"But there is a report from somewhere else," Steve prompted, recognizing his partner's hesitance.

"From New Orleans," Brice nodded. "It was part of a collection owned by a socialite down there. After she reported it stolen, several people thought they saw it on a two-bit con woman named Ellena Fanchon."

Now Della jumped a visible mile. "Ellena again!" she cried.

Steve frowned as he looked to her. "That name _does_ mean something to you, Della," he said.

Della averted her gaze. "I guess I just heard it somewhere," she said. "You know how sometimes you never hear a certain name before and then all of a sudden you start hearing it everywhere."

"Mm hmm." Steve didn't look convinced.

Brice looked uncomfortable. Noticing, Perry turned back to him. "What's the rest of the story, Sergeant?"

"There isn't much," Brice admitted. "When Ellena was murdered by some unknown person and left in an alley, the necklace disappeared."

"Ellena's dead," Della whispered. "Then her spirit _could_ be in the necklace. Maybe she wants her murder solved."

Perry looked to her with a start. "Or maybe we all need a good night's sleep," he said. "I think the excitement is getting to us." He paused. "But you say her last name was _Fanchon_ , Sergeant?"

"That's right," Brice nodded.

"I don't suppose there's any chance she's related to Agnes Fanchon, Larry Germaine's friend at the Club Caribe," Perry mused.

Paul shrugged. "It's worth looking into, I guess. Even if you don't believe this story about the necklace being haunted, the murder and the theft are real enough."

Perry nodded. "The last performance should be wrapping up there soon. Why don't you go over and see what you can find out, Paul?"

"Will do," Paul said.

"Sergeant Toland of Robbery might want to go along with you, Paul," Steve said. "Maybe someone from Homicide too."

"But not you, Steve?" Perry queried.

"Right now there's no connection between the necklace and the death I'm investigating," Steve reminded. "Not unless we can prove that the guy in the morgue gave Mr. Torg the jewelry." He sighed. "It's a long shot that you'll have any luck at the Club Caribe; do you have any idea how many Fanchons there are? But maybe I'll go along."

"I hope you learn something," Della said in all sincerity.

"So do we," Steve answered.

xxxx

It was late and Aaron Stuart was exhausted by the time he walked through the front door of their home. Marian hurried out to greet him. "How did it go?" she asked hopefully. "Will Perry be able to help us?"

Aaron managed a tired smile. "Yes, he will. He's sending Paul out to talk to us tomorrow about starting the investigation."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Marian declared. "Maybe we can get this terrible business cleared up before it goes on much longer." She looked worriedly at her husband. "I know it's been taking a toll on you, Aaron."

"I'm fine, Marian," Aaron retorted. "It's just a childish prank. Why would it especially be bothering me?"

Marian sighed. "You wouldn't have called Perry if you thought it was just a prank. You're really worried that someone is out to destroy the new school. And that would be bad enough, but when they must know what Tobin did in the past, it makes it clear that they're deliberately trying to torment you for other reasons too."

Aaron's shoulders slumped. "I just can't figure out why anyone would want to do that," he said in despair. "What could I have done to make someone that angry?"

"Did Perry ask you about that?" Marian wanted to know.

"No. . . . I don't know if it occurred to him that at least part of the motive must be revenge." Aaron set his briefcase down and sank into the couch.

Marian sat next to him. "I know it doesn't sound sensible or logical, but is there any chance that Tobin's murderer might . . ."

"Oh, good Heavens, no," Aaron exclaimed. "He didn't even want to hurt me; I just came in the wrong time and he decided he had to make it look like I killed Tobin. He doesn't hold anything against me now, even though he's in prison."

"Then who?" Marian lamented.

"That's what I'd like to know." Aaron got up just as the phone rang. Frowning in confusion, he went over and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Dr. Stuart?" The voice was muffled, but it sounded like a man.

"Yes. Who is this?" Aaron demanded.

Ignoring the question, the caller said, "Have you heard what's been going on at Tobin Wade's old cabin in Topanga Canyon?"

"Should I have?" Aaron said doubtfully.

"People are saying it's haunted and that Tobin Wade's come back from the grave."

"Now really," Aaron scoffed. But Marian could see the unsettled look in his eyes. "Why would he suddenly decide to start haunting his cabin now? It's been four years." Marian tensed, stunned.

"Maybe he wouldn't have," the voice responded. "But maybe you should start thinking about why someone would want you to believe that."

"Why someone would . . . who is this?" Aaron barked, his patience beginning to unravel.

"Someone who means you no harm." A pause. "Someone who wants to make sure you're not hurt . . . this time."

"Do _you_ know who's out to get me?" Aaron voice had started to rise. "You'd better tell me if you do."

"I'm sorry, I don't. I only know that it's too much of a coincidence for Wade's cabin and your school to both start seeming haunted at the same time. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose so, but . . ."

"Please be careful. I'll call again."

The phone clicked in Aaron's ear. He winced, pulling it back and staring at it in bewildered disbelief.

Marian got up from the couch. "What's going on, Aaron? Who was that?"

"I honestly have no idea," Aaron replied, stunned and dazed as he lowered the receiver.

"Well, what does the caller I.D. say?" Marian leaned over to look at the screen. "Amos Berry's Car Shop?"

Aaron gave it a stupid look. "I don't know anyone there," he protested. "I don't even know where it is!"

"Maybe it was a customer waiting for his car to be fixed," Marian suggested.

"At this time of night?" Aaron glanced at the clock.

"Well, in any case, what did they want?" Marian asked. "It sounded like they were talking about Tobin."

"They were. I don't know why." Aaron shook his head. "Nothing makes sense right now!" He headed for the stairs, loosening his tie. "I'll be glad when Paul Drake gets here tomorrow."

"Aaron . . ." Marian followed him to the foot of the stairs and placed her hand on the banister. "You were talking about Tobin haunting his cabin. Is there any possibility that . . ."

"That he is? Oh, Marian, for Heaven's sake!" Aaron turned on the stairs to face her. "Even if we want to say for the sake of argument that there is something after death and Tobin is experiencing it, why would he come back now? There's nothing significant about this particular passage of time!"

Marian looked down. "Maybe he just wants to tell us he's sorry," she said quietly.

"By haunting the campus too and starting it on a path of decline? He certainly has a brilliant way of showing his sorrow!"

Marian flinched. "We were talking about him haunting his cabin, not the school."

Aaron sighed, knowing he had been caught. "The person on the phone indicated the incidents are connected. I hadn't heard about anything going on at the cabin, but I must admit it sounds ludicrous to think it wouldn't be connected with what's happening at the school. I have half a mind to go down to that auto shop and demand to see whoever phoned me."

"They're probably not even there now," Marian protested. "They didn't want to let you know who they were, so I don't think they'd hang around when they'd know the number would register on the caller I.D."

"That's true." Aaron turned again to trudge up the stairs but paused once more. "Although maybe I could find out who used their phone recently." He hurried down the stairs and over to the phone.

xxxx

David looked over as the phone rang. He moved towards it, but stopped as Amos answered. "Hello, Amos Berry."

There was a pause as the caller said what he wanted. Amos's expression twisted in confusion. "What? Has someone moaned recently?!"

David resisted the urge to slap his forehead. "Let me try," he said, coming over to take the phone.

"Go ahead," Amos grunted. "Phones just ain't like they used to be. Connections rarely come through clear."

David accepted the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello, this is Aaron Stuart at . . ." The caller recited his number. "Someone at your establishment called here a few minutes ago."

"Really?" David replied. "That's odd."

"I was trying to ask who has used the phone there recently," Aaron said in exasperation.

"Ah yes. You'll have to excuse old Amos," David said with a slight smile. "But as to your question, I'm sorry, but I can't help you. There's a phone booth out front; anyone could have used that."

"Alright." Aaron sighed. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for your time."

The phone clicked and David slowly hung up the receiver. As he turned away, his expression was clouded.

"Sorry, Aaron," he muttered. "Not now. Not yet."

xxxx

Della was anxious to get back to the office after departing the police station. Perry thought it would be a good idea to get the jewelry back in the safe as quickly as possible, and Della quite agreed.

"Are you planning to go down to the Club Caribe with Paul?" Della asked as they stepped outside Perry's car in front of the Brent building.

"I think Paul and Steve can handle things fine," Perry said. "But maybe we'll drop in on them out of curiosity."

Della smiled. "Then I'll be quick."

She hastened into the building before Perry could reply. There was a reason for her actions; after hearing Sergeant Brice's story about the necklace and Ellena, she wanted to try something. She felt she _had_ to try it. But she waited until she was safely on the ninth floor and going into Perry's office through the back door Paul often used.

"Ellena," she called softly. "You're really here, aren't you? You're haunting this necklace." She opened the sack and lifted it out. "I want to help you."

" _Help me?"_ came the voice. _"Why?"_

"Because you were murdered and no one knows who did it or why," Della answered. "I can help you find out."

" _You really mean that? You're just an old romantic softie, aren't you?"_

Della blinked, slightly taken aback. "Well . . . I guess you could say that. I just don't like to see anyone at unrest. Maybe if your murder was solved, you'd be able to leave the necklace and go on to the afterlife."

" _If you really want to help me, then put the necklace on."_

"What?" Della stared. "But after what Gene Torg and Pearl Chute said . . ."

" _You would honestly believe them? You know what they are. And you know you've been wanting to try it on ever since they brought it. Go ahead, Della. It won't hurt you."_

Della had to admit, the urge to follow through was coming back. Still, she tried to resist. If there wasn't anything wrong with it, Pearl likely would have wanted to keep it for herself . . . unless she had just been afraid of the voice coming from it. "How would putting it on help you?"

" _You'd see what I remember about that night. It's hard to put it into words. If you actually saw it, maybe you could make something out of it!"_

Della bit her lip. That sounded logical enough, but now she could hear footsteps coming up the back steps.

" _Hurry! Into the library. Put the earrings in the safe and the necklace on yourself. But don't let anyone see you."_

The urge was growing stronger. Almost without Della fully realizing it, her own will was slipping away. She dove through Perry's office and into the library, shutting the door behind her. Crossing to the safe, she opened the door and set the sack inside. Nearly as an afterthought, she grabbed the necklace and clasped it around her neck.

She barely managed to slip it under her blouse as the door opened. "Della?" Perry peered in. "You weren't kidding about being quick. Why were you in such a hurry to get up here?"

She whirled to face him. "Oh . . . I just wanted to get the sack away before anything could happen to it," she answered. "And I'm anxious to see what's happening at the Club Caribe."

"Well, then." Perry smiled in gentle amusement. "Let's go."

Della shut the safe and twirled the dial to lock it. As she followed Perry out, for the briefest moment her eyes flickered from their soft natural color to a flashing emerald green. But Perry, occupied with the prospect of what they might learn from Agnes Fanchon, didn't notice.


	4. Possession

**Chapter Four**

The new day was perfect for a drive. Paul was at the wheel, taking himself, Pete Kelton, Perry, and Della to Manzana Valley. The autumn breeze wafted pleasantly into the convertible, bringing with it the scent of apples fresh on the trees. Manzana Valley was filled with apple orchards, which had given the area its Spanish name— _manzana_ , the word for _apple_.

"It's too bad Agnes didn't know anything about Ellena," Della sighed, tying her bandanna closer against her chin. She had placed it over her hair to keep it from being blown about on the country drive.

"Well, we weren't really expecting she would," Paul said. "It was just a wild shot."

"And then Dr. Stuart called to ask you about the Topanga Canyon hauntings," Della said, looking to Perry.

"And here we thought he didn't know about them. Apparently he didn't, until after I left." Perry frowned. "Who would have called him from Amos Berry's shop?"

"At least if they're really an ally, we don't have to worry about it too much, do we?" Paul said.

"But _is_ he an ally?" Perry retorted. "Yes, he seemed to be warning Aaron and not threatening him, but it could have merely appeared that way. He could be an enemy."

"I went over to ask Dave about it before I picked you guys up," Paul said. "He insisted he didn't know who might have used the payphone."

"What about the phone inside the shop?" Perry wondered.

"Huh?" Paul blinked.

"Well, from what you're saying, Paul, David was only talking about the payphone outside. There has to be a phone inside too, doesn't there?" Perry watched the road ahead. "Turn off here," he directed.

Paul did so. "Sure there is, but it's for employees' use only," he said. "Why the heck would any of the employees call him? They don't know him."

"True," Perry agreed. "He didn't even know about the establishment at all." Again he looked ahead. "There's the school on the right."

Paul gave a low whistle. "Wow. He really did get an upgrade." He pulled into an empty parking space near the doors.

Pete Kelton chose that moment to speak. "So if I'm going to be on the inside, what's my cover?" he asked.

"You'll have to ask Dr. Stuart about that," Paul said. "I'm not sure what's available."

"Or what's available that Pete would be qualified for," Perry deadpanned.

"That too," Paul said.

The group exited and gazed up at the building. Della, shielding her eyes from the sun, seemed particularly impressed. "Well, I do declare, Dr. Stuart's moved on up in the world," she said with a definite touch of a Southern accent.

Perry turned to look at her questioningly. "Della?"

She looked back at him, her expression blank. "Yes?" Now her voice was normal.

Perry shook his head. "Nevermind." Assuming it was some sort of joke, he headed for the doors.

Honestly puzzled, Della followed.

Aaron and Marian were coming down the hall just as the group was entering. "Hello!" Aaron called cheerfully. "Welcome to the new Manzana Valley Prep School."

"I've got to hand it to you, Dr. Stuart, this is really impressive," Paul said. "If I had kids, I'd send them here."

"If you could afford it," Della teased. "Of course, I'm sure you could, on your prices."

"Well, why don't we all go into the office and discuss how we're going to handle this?" Aaron suggested. "Oh, I don't believe I've met you." He looked to Pete, who held out a hand.

"Pete Kelton," he said with a smile. "I'll be your inside man."

"Wonderful," Aaron said, shaking hands with him.

"I'm so glad you're all here to help," Marian declared. "These problems have been worrying Aaron so much."

"Have there been any more strange phone calls since last night?" Perry queried.

"No," Aaron replied, "but I found a newspaper on the porch, open to a story about a mysterious death in Topanga Canyon." He looked troubled. "The caller last night didn't mention that."

"The police still aren't sure about it," Perry said. "It might have just been an accident."

"I'm sure it was," Marian tried to say. "There's always some poor soul miscalculating in the canyons and falling."

Aaron sighed. "That's true. Yes, that's likely the explanation." But he didn't sound or look completely convinced.

The group trouped into his office and he shut the door after them. Della looked around as she whipped off her bandanna and flipped her dark curls with her other hand. "This is real nice," she said, the Southern tones slipping back into her voice.

Perry raised an eyebrow at the less-than-perfect grammar. "Della . . ." He was about to say that it wasn't the time to joke, but she barreled on and cut him off.

"I wonder what Tobin Wade would have thought of this place."

Everyone stiffened. Stunned, Aaron looked at her and then away, crossing to his desk. "I'd just as soon not know," he said. "He wouldn't be able to help being greedy about a choice piece of real estate like this."

"Even though he's dead?" Della returned.

Paul gaped at her. Deciding that the best thing to do would be to change the subject, he said, "Well, Dr. Stuart, what jobs do you have open that Pete could choose from?"

Aaron started and glanced at him with gratitude in his eyes. "Oh, there's several possibilities. We still don't have a permanent physical education teacher, for one thing; we've been using substitutes."

"That would work alright for me," Pete said. "I'll be the new permanent gym teacher until this case is solved."

"I can make up a file for you right now," Marian offered.

"That would be great, Mrs. Stuart," Pete smiled. "Thanks."

While Marian hurried to type it up, opting to use Aaron's computer instead of her own in the outer office, the conversation continued. As Aaron discussed the particulars of the outside operation with Paul, Della wandered about the office, studying the assorted degrees and awards on the wall. Perry sidled after her.

"Della, what was with those cracks about Tobin Wade?" he asked quietly. "It isn't like you to be so impolite and unfeeling."

Della turned to look at him, her expression completely blank. "What are you talking about, Perry?" she asked. He noted that she was back to her normal voice.

"Don't you even remember what you said?" he said in disbelief. Maybe she had been working too hard lately.

Della shook her head. "Uh uh. Perry, why on Earth would I say something rude involving Tobin Wade?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Perry retorted. "And why you keep switching to that fake Southern accent."

Della's eyes widened just slightly. "Southern accent?" That rang a bell for some reason, but she couldn't think why.

Perry sighed. "Nevermind," he said, hearing a lull in the conversation between Paul and Aaron. "Just try to be more careful what you say from now on. Tobin Wade is still a very touchy subject for Aaron and Marian alike."

"Of course." Della walked away, disturbed by what she had been told. How could she say things and not remember it moments later? And why couldn't she bring to mind what was significant about speaking like a Southerner? A hand drifted to her collar, resting on the emerald necklace hidden under her blouse. Her eyes started to narrow in further confusion.

" _Nevermind,"_ Ellena whispered in her mind. _"You don't need to remember any of that. Or that you're wearing the necklace. As far as you know, it's back in the safe with the earrings."_

Della's hand dropped.

"So," Aaron was saying, "that's that."

Paul nodded. "I'll just go into town and visit those places you were telling me about and talk to those people and maybe hopefully I'll learn something that the headmaster of Manzana Valley Prep just isn't hearing."

Aaron sighed. "I wish it would be an outside source this time, instead of someone on the staff."

"Oh, do you have a copy of the staff list?" Pete asked. "I'll need to go over that."

"Of course," Aaron said. "Marian can print that out along with your file."

"I have that done, by the way," Marian spoke up. "Does this look good enough?"

Both Paul and Pete gathered around. "It's a work of art," Paul proclaimed with a smile. "No one should be looking at Pete's file anyway, but it's good to have one around, just in case."

"Suddenly I'm a former college football player who decided to go into teaching the game instead of playing it," Pete said wryly.

"Well, it helps that you really did play college football," Paul quipped.

"I'd better get back into practice with my kids tonight," Pete said. "When should I report for work?"

"Tomorrow morning," Aaron replied. "I'll tell the staff that I've been trying to get someone for the permanent position and you just became available."

Perry glanced over the staff list as Marian brought up the document on the screen. "I see that Janet Gwynne is still working for you," he noted.

"Oh. Yes, I didn't have any reason to let her go," Aaron said.

"What does she think about the strange paranormal activity?" Perry wondered.

"She doesn't know what to think," Aaron sighed. "She doesn't believe it's ghosts, of course, but she's puzzled."

"As are we all," Paul interjected.

"Is there any chance that Janet or someone else on the staff might become inquisitive about Pete and start to suspect he isn't just a phys ed teacher?" Perry asked.

Aaron paused, considering the question. "Janet minds her own business. Of course, if she thought that Mr. Kelton was here to do harm, she might come to me privately and talk to me about it, but I don't think it would go any further than that."

"What about the other teachers?" Perry wondered.

"I don't know the new ones well enough yet to say," Aaron said helplessly. "The others who came over from the first Manzana Valley Prep shouldn't have any reason to suspect anything."

"Surely at least some of them don't believe what's happening is just due to harmless pranks," Perry said.

"Oh, some of them are quite angry about it," Aaron said. "They don't find it the least bit harmless. They know these stories could damage the school's reputation. But if Mr. Kelton is good at his cover, they shouldn't think he's involved."

"I'll do my best," Pete promised.

"He's one of my best men," Paul insisted. "You don't have to worry."

"Like Tobin Wade worried?" Della spoke up again. The Southern drawl was back, stronger this time.

Aaron stared at her. "Whatever are you talking about, Miss Street?"

She strolled over to him, swinging her purse by the handle. "He must have worried, knowing he was going to be found out a thief. That's why he cooked up that whole scheme with you and your wife. Isn't that right, Mrs. Stuart?"

"Why . . ." Marian got up from the desk, definitely looking uncomfortable.

"It must have been real satisfying, knowing he was dead and couldn't hurt you anymore," Della barreled on. "I wonder, Dr. Stuart, if he hadn't already been killed when you got there, what would you have done?"

Aaron's patience was beginning to strain. "I don't believe that is any of your business," he said. "Nor is it relevant."

"Relevant?" Della scoffed. "Considering the whole problem here is that Tobin Wade's haunting the place, I can't think of anything that's much _more_ relevant."

"Della!" Paul gasped.

Definitely disturbed now, Perry crossed the room and took Della's arm. "Will you excuse us for a moment?" Without waiting for a reply from Aaron, he led Della out the door and into the outer office, shutting the door after them.

Della glowered, walking away from Perry once the door was shut. Undaunted, he followed her. "Della, what is _wrong?_ " he demanded. "I know something has to be wrong. This isn't you. Aaron has enough problems without you almost making it sound like you're accusing him of something illicit."

"Well, what about it?" Della snapped, whirling to face him. "Everyone's always on about how Tobin up and betrayed Dr. and Mrs. Stuart, but do they ever stop to really ask Why?"

"Many times," Perry frowned. "Aaron and Marian are still asking that question. You know that. And stop talking with that fake accent!"

"Because that isn't me, either?" Della sneered.

Perry rocked back. "Della . . ."

"I say that Tobin Wade must have had a good reason for what he did," Della declared. "He wouldn't turn against his best friends unless they had already turned against him!"

"You know that isn't true." Perry slowed his pace, but kept walking towards her. "Della, you're not well. Maybe this started last night, with all that nonsense about Ellena and the necklace. You acted like you wanted to solve her murder. Now you act like you want to exonerate Tobin Wade for the evil he did. I know sometimes you have compassion even on some of the murderers we've encountered, but you've never behaved this rudely towards any of our friends before."

"Well, maybe I just have other friends that you don't know anything about. And maybe I don't care about finding out who's doing this to Dr. Stuart. Maybe I hope that whatever they're trying to do, they'll succeed!" Della stormed to the door leading into the corridor and started to haul it open.

Perry reached it and placed his hand on it. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to call a cab," Della answered. "I've got some things that need doing."

"Della, you need to lie down!" Perry retorted. "I can't let you go out in this condition!"

"Why, I haven't felt this good in half a dozen years," Della giggled. With that she practically threw the door open and rushed out into the hall.

"Della!" Forced to stumble back from the force of the door opening, Perry now righted himself and dashed into the corridor after her. But the hall was empty; she was nowhere in sight.

"Perry, _what_ for the love of Mike is going on?!"

Perry spun around as Paul opened the door to Aaron's office and stared out at him. "Something's wrong with Della, Paul," he exclaimed. "We have to find her!"

"She ran off?" Paul said in disbelief.

"Yes!" Perry chose a path and started down the hall. "Try calling her phone. I'll see if I can catch up to her before she does what she threatened to and calls a cab!"

"Cab?! Perry, what . . ." But Paul trailed off as Perry vanished from sight.

Aaron came up beside him. "She's been acting strange all morning," he said in confusion.

"Della has never acted like this before," Marian added. "What could be wrong?"

"If we knew that," Paul replied, "I wonder how many other mysteries we might be able to solve." He took out his phone and dialed Della's number. But, as he had really expected, she didn't answer.

xxxx

She pulled up in front of an old warehouse at Wharf 33 in Los Angeles. "Wait here," she told the cab driver before getting out.

"It's your dough," the cabbie shrugged.

"That's right, Darlin'." She blew him a kiss and started up the walkway. Once she was out of sight around the side of the building, she stopped and looked around. "Okay, coast is clear," she announced.

Another woman emerged from behind a stack of crates, a man in tow. "You're looking different, Ellena," she commented.

"You sound different too," the man added. "We barely recognized you when you called."

Ellena laughed and flipped her hair again. "I know, but it really can't be helped. New body and all, you know? But I'm going to get fixed up soon and be like the Ellena y'all know."

The man shook his head. "That's no good. You've been too bold and brash, like always."

Ellena frowned. "Whaddya mean?"

"You're blowing your cover too soon," the woman scolded. "If you're going to make this infiltration job work, you have to really get into the part. You can't make everyone realize something is wrong with Della Street."

Ellena cringed, realizing she was right. "I guess I've already done that."

"You can still fix it." The woman walked closer to her. "Tell them you've been sick. Better yet, let Miss Street be in control again for a while. She doesn't remember anything you do while you're in control, right?"

"Of course she doesn't," Ellena insisted.

"So it will be all the more believable. You're aware of her and can spy through her without her knowledge. Find out how the case is progressing. If they get too close to the truth, stop them."

"How?" Ellena asked, twirling a curl around her finger.

"That's up to you," the man said. "We know you don't have many scruples."

"True," Ellena nodded. "But I've never gone as far as murder."

"Would you, to avenge Tobin Wade's death?" the woman asked.

"I might." Ellena's eyes darkened. "I'll never forgive Aaron Stuart for whatever he must have done to drive Tobin to turn against him."

"Just keep that mindset," the man said, "but don't act rashly. For all intents and purposes, stay in the background. Let Miss Street be in control. Only take control yourself in the most extreme of circumstances."

Ellena sighed. "You're no fun."

"But he makes good sense," the woman said. "We're glad you found your way back to us, Ellena. That idiot who passed the necklace on to that two-bit conman did us a big favor." Her eyes gleamed. "You couldn't have landed in a better position than you're in now."

"Yeah," Ellena giggled. "I guess this was pretty lucky at that."

"So go back now," the man encouraged. "Let Miss Street take over and she can be found wandering aimlessly through L.A."

"Oh, alright," Ellena agreed. "I'll do it."

"Good girl." The woman stepped back. "You know how to contact us if anything big happens."

Ellena saluted. "Right." She paused. "But what about my first installment?"

The man frowned. "I thought you were in this for Tobin Wade."

"I am, but I'm a little short of cash unless I use Miss Street's money, and I didn't think you'd want that," Ellena purred.

The man and the woman exchanged a look. "Oh, alright," the man scowled. "You're right; you'll have to leave her money alone. We can't have it turning up on bank records about any of Miss Street's money being used for mysterious purposes." He took out an envelope and slapped it into Ellena's hand. "Just remember to keep it someplace where she won't see."

"Oh, she'll never see," Ellena grinned.

"She'd better not," the man grunted.

"She won't!" Ellena turned, skipping back to the front of the building and into the cab.

"You're in a good mood," the cabbie said. "Where to now?"

"Well . . ." She leaned back, contemplating her next move. She really _should_ do as her comrades wanted, and she _would_ do it, but maybe she could have a little fun first. She needed to get herself set up for those times when she would be in control and not Miss Della Street, bleeding heart.

"Take me back to town," she said at last. "To a really good wig shop." Even if she had to stick with Della's dark hair most of the time, she could look more like herself every now and then. "And then I wanna go apartment hunting." That would be the perfect place to stash the wig, the money and anything else she might want to get as herself.

The cabbie shook his head. "Your dough," he said again.

"It sure is, Honey," Ellena said, crossing her legs. "And don't you forget it!"

xxxx

Hamilton Burger sighed to himself as he drove through the streets of L.A. It had been a long day and a long court trial and he was more than ready to just go home and relax. Especially since he had to be up early tomorrow to confer in Judge Penner's chambers before the trial reconvened.

The sight of a dark-haired woman stumbling down the sidewalk made him look over with a start. "Della?" he said in disbelief. Bewildered and concerned, he drove over to the curb and parked. "Della!" he called louder.

The woman looked up. It was indeed Della Street. "Mr. Burger?" She looked dazed, confused, and dizzy all at once.

Hamilton got out of the car and hurried over to her. "What happened?" he exclaimed.

"I . . . I don't know." Della reached up, placing a hand to her forehead. "The last thing I remember is standing with Perry in Aaron Stuart's office in Manzana Valley."

Hamilton stared. "I'd better take you to the hospital." Drawing an arm around Della's shoulders, he guided her to the car.

Della, badly shaken by her lapse of memory, didn't protest.


	5. Puzzlement

**Notes: Ninety-eight percent of my** _ **Perry Mason**_ **stories run about 10-15 chapters in length. I don't plan for this one to be any exception.**

 **Chapter Five**

Della was confused and bewildered on the drive with Hamilton. Why didn't she remember anything after her conversation with Perry? And what had Perry been talking about during it? He had said something about her having been rude to Aaron by talking about Tobin Wade. She just didn't understand.

"Della?"

She started at Hamilton's concerned voice. "Mr. Burger, don't you have any idea how I could have gotten out here?" she cried in dismay.

"No," Hamilton said in amazed disbelief. "I've been in court. I haven't heard anything about what you've been up to, except what Steve told me about some necklace Gene Torg is ranting about." He chuckled. "He claims it's possessed."

Della subconsciously reached up, feeling for something under her blouse at her throat. Nothing was there. "I remember that," she said. "It's in Perry's safe."

"Yes, Steve said he told you to go ahead and take it back there," Hamilton said.

Della raised her hands higher, massaging her temples. "I just don't understand any of this," she fretted.

"Well, I tried calling Perry and he didn't answer," Hamilton said. "Neither did Paul. Could you have been ambushed?"

Della blinked in surprise. "I . . . I guess that's possible," she said slowly. "I don't remember being hurt, but why else wouldn't I remember?"

". . . It could have been an emotional shock," Hamilton said, keeping his voice gentle. By now he was really quite worried about Perry and Paul as well as Della.

"You mean I might have seen something horrible happen," Della surmised.

"That's right." Hamilton pulled in at Rampart Emergency Hospital. "Only it still doesn't explain how you got back to Los Angeles. Not unless whatever happened, happened here and not at Dr. Stuart's office."

Della turned, grabbing at Hamilton's wrist. "Mr. Burger, you have to try calling Perry again," she said urgently. "I won't have a minute's peace until I know he's alright."

"I'm sure he feels the same about you," Hamilton returned. "Once you're inside and a doctor's examining you, I'll try again. Alright?"

Della finally nodded. "Alright."

She got out of the car, idly noting that her purse seemed slightly heavier than usual. But she never once considered that the reason might be because a certain emerald necklace had been hidden in a zippered compartment she rarely ever used.

xxxx

David stood outside the car shop, staring off into the distance and lost in thought. When Amos Berry approached him from the side, he didn't even look up.

"Hey!"

That caused him to jump a mile. "Oh . . . Amos. Sorry, I didn't hear you," he apologized.

"And people say _I_ don't hear so well anymore," Amos grumped. "Come on! There's more work to be done."

"Alright, I'm coming." David followed his employer back inside. "What do you want me to start on?"

"This car here." Amos pointed to a dark green convertible.

"Oh no!" David groaned. "Not Mannix again!"

"Yeah, again. It means more business for us anyway. So hop to it!" But just as Amos was about to leave, he paused. "What was it you were thinking about out there?"

"Nothing," David said quickly. "Nothing that has any bearing on this."

"I should hope there aren't any bears!" Amos cried. "Look, sometimes you get funny this way. You didn't think I'd notice? You go into these ways where you stare off at nothing or stand around seeming sad. Sometimes I've seen you rubbing at your head. It don't still hurt, does it?"

"No," David said, again swiftly. "No, I'm just remembering the past."

"Well, you should be thinking about the present and the future, like you were when you came to me looking for work while you were getting over a concussion." Amos's hands went to his hips. "I've never pressured you about your past because I didn't figure it was important, but now I'd like to know at least this: is your past gonna interfere with your work now?"

"No, it isn't." David came closer to the convertible. "I'll start in on Mannix's car now. Don't worry, Amos!"

"Well, okay." Amos started to move slowly away. When he saw David reaching inside the car to pop the hood, he turned and left in satisfaction.

David sighed to himself as he watched Amos go. "Don't worry, Amos," he muttered again. "This is my life now. My past isn't going to change that." He came around to the hood and scowled at the signs of damage from bullet holes. "I never thought that someday I'd know how to fix something like this." Sighing again, he added, "But this is easier to fix than what my past caused." Taking a wrench, he set to work correcting the latest calamity to the car—and wishing that it were equally possible to correct the calamities to people's relationships.

xxxx

When Perry saw that his phone was ringing as he returned from briefly checking a town bar for Della, he grabbed it off the car seat and immediately answered it. "Hello?!"

"Perry, what in the name of . . . are you alright?!"

Perry rocked back at the greeting. "Of course I'm alright, Hamilton," he said in surprise. "What's going on?"

"That's what I wish someone could tell me!" Hamilton exclaimed. "I found Della wandering around town looking sick. She said she couldn't remember anything that happened after you and she were talking in Aaron Stuart's office! I took her to the hospital and I've been trying to reach you and Paul ever since."

Perry gripped the phone in alarm. "Hamilton, we're still in Manzana Valley! We've been looking everywhere for Della. How on Earth did she get back to Los Angeles?!"

"She'd like to know that as much as you and I would," Hamilton answered. "But Perry, how did Della get away from you in the first place?"

Perry fell silent, debating whether to reveal the details of Della's shocking behavior at the school. But then, deciding Hamilton needed to know in case Della suddenly acted out again, he said, "It's a long story. She'd been acting strange all day . . . although actually, it really seemed to start when we reached the school. She kept needling Aaron and finally came out and told me she believed he must have turned against Tobin Wade first or Wade never would have done the things he did to the Stuarts. She sounded as if . . ." He paused. "As if she knew Wade."

"But she didn't," Hamilton protested.

"I know." Perry frowned. "She also started talking with a Southern accent every time she acted that way. Finally she just pushed through the door and ran off."

Hamilton leaned on the desk at the nurses' station, shaking his head in disbelief. "I really don't know what to say, Perry," he said. "All of that is just bizarre. It isn't like Della in the least."

Perry sighed, gripping the top of the passenger side door. "I know you won't like to hear this, Hamilton, but after all this, I can't help thinking about those stories Gene Torg and Pearl Chute were telling about that necklace last night. Della was in close contact with that necklace the entire time we were at the police station. What if . . ."

"Oh, Perry!" Hamilton grimaced. "You're not going to say you think Della was possessed by an evil spirit from the necklace?"

"I don't see how she could have been," Perry said. "Miss Chute said that nothing happened until she actually put the necklace on, and Della hasn't worn it. Still, I'm having Paul run a check on Ellena Fanchon. I want to find out if she knew Tobin Wade."

"And what are you going to do if you find out she did?" Hamilton retorted.

"I don't know," Perry sighed. "I almost wish Wade wasn't dead, so I could try to ask him about her. I've already asked Aaron and he doesn't remember someone by that name at all."

"Well," Hamilton said ironically, "I guess if you really want to ask Wade, you could get a Ouija board and conduct a séance. Just don't invite me; I'd probably unintentionally break the spell." But then he winced. "I'm sorry; that was uncalled-for. I know you're just trying to figure out what's wrong with Della. I'm worried too. It's just that I don't think we should pounce on a paranormal explanation any time something happens that we can't explain."

"I agree," Perry said. "That's why I wasn't considering it before. But I don't think we can just ignore what Gene Torg and Pearl Chute said, not when it actually could explain Della's behavior."

"Except that she wasn't wearing the necklace," Hamilton reminded him.

"That's the rub," Perry sighed. "Well, Hamilton, thank you for looking after Della. Call me back as soon as you hear what the doctor has to say. I'm going to get Paul and Pete Kelton and head back."

"Alright, Perry. Stay safe." Hamilton hung up, frowning deeply to himself.

xxxx

Aaron and Marian came out to greet Perry when he, Paul, and Pete drove back to the school to say Goodbye. "Oh Perry, I was hoping you'd come back," Aaron said. "Have you found out anything about Miss Street?"

"Yes, I have," Perry frowned. "She turned up in Los Angeles and was found by Hamilton Burger. I'm sure you remember Mr. Burger."

"Yes," Aaron sighed. "But what did she say? How did she explain the way she behaved?"

"She couldn't. She doesn't remember." Perry gripped the wheel. "We're going back to Los Angeles now to see her."

"I hope she's alright," Aaron worried.

"Don't you have any idea what could have caused her to behave so strangely?" Marian asked in concern.

Perry hesitated, not wanting to introduce the Stuarts to ideas of the supernatural at this point. "There's only some vague possibilities," he said. "Della must have been working too hard lately. So many odd things have been happening for months now—mysterious and deadly cases with people we know and love being hurt. Eventually that would strain even the most resilient person's nerves."

"Yes, I suppose so," Aaron agreed. "But I just can't figure out why her nerves would strain to the point of believing something so outlandish about me."

"That's what we'd like to know too," Paul said.

"That name, Ellena Fanchon, still doesn't sound familiar?" Perry asked.

"No, it doesn't," Aaron said. "I never knew Tobin went down to New Orleans, but he could have."

"Or the New Orleans girl could have come up here," Marian added. "He _was_ popular with the ladies. I think even Janet Gwynne kind of liked him."

Perry blinked in surprise. "That's right," he remembered. "She'd left some of her books at his cabin. That's how you found out he was still alive after the incident at the cliff—she went to get them and happened to see him through the window."

Aaron turned to look at Marian with a start. "I didn't even think about that," he said in chagrin. "I wonder if there's any chance Janet _could_ be behind the hauntings. But no, I can't really believe she would think anything along the same lines that Miss Street was talking about."

"I can't think she would either," Marian said kindly.

"And then there was what Miss Street said about Tobin being behind the hauntings." Aaron shook his head. "Ghosts might or might not be real, but I still don't want to have to believe that Tobin might be doing this to us." He ran a hand through his hair. "I thought we were finally free of him and his betrayals."

"I hope you are," Perry said. "I'm sure you are. But perhaps not free from someone who blames you for his death."

"You know," Paul mused, "isn't it strange that none of these haunting incidents happened while we were here all day? Or when Perry was here last night?"

"Not necessarily," Aaron said. "These things don't happen every day. We can go for several days without anything happening."

Marian nodded in agreement. "We can almost believe it's stopped and then suddenly something happens again." She looked worried. "And maybe whoever is doing this knows about all of you coming and deliberately didn't do anything because of that!"

Pete cringed. "Which would mean that my cover might be blown before I even start."

Aaron looked to him. "If you want to back out, Mr. Kelton, I won't object."

"No; I'll still be here tomorrow to start work," Pete assured him.

"Thank you," Aaron said, the relief noticeable in his eyes and voice.

"We'll let you know as soon as we know anything concrete about any angle of this case," Perry promised.

"Good." Aaron tried to smile and relax. "Maybe we'll be able to get something solved around here." He stepped back from the car. "Well, good luck, Perry, everyone. I hope you'll find Miss Street back to her normal self."

"So do we," Paul said.

He looked to Perry once they were past the school. "So you didn't want to tell them that Della might be possessed by Ellena's ghost?"

"Not really," Perry said. "What purpose would that serve?" He sighed, staring off into the distance. "I'm actually not sure which sounds worse, for that to be the case or for Della to be so ill that she's delusional."

"Neither thing really makes sense," Paul said.

"Well, we did witness at least one case of possession when Helen Garden's restless spirit possessed Bonnie Craig," Perry remarked.

Paul cringed, recalling _The Case of the Spiteful Spirit_ all too well. "Yeah, and that was weird and disturbing enough. It's different when it's someone you really know well and love. I really don't want to believe that it's happening to Della."

"Neither do I, Paul," Perry answered. "But I also don't want to believe that Della would say those things or act the way she did of her own volition."

"You know," Pete spoke up from the back, "I was just thinking how strange it is that Tobin Wade is so central to everything that's going on here and yet none of us or Della ever met him."

"Oh, I met him at least once," Perry said. "But you're right that Della never did. That only makes this all the stranger."

Paul sighed as he looked out at the dissipating twilight. "You said it, brother," he muttered.

xxxx

Hamilton perked up as Della came back to the waiting room, her purse slung over her arm. The color was back in her face and she looked much more alert and like her usual self. "Well? What did the doctor say?" he asked.

"He thinks I'm just fine," Della said. "He couldn't find anything wrong with me, other than the gap in my memory." She smiled at him. "I think the message you sent back, that Perry and Paul were alright, helped more than anything else could have."

Hamilton relaxed. "I'm glad. But are you being released then?"

"They don't have any reason to keep me," Della said. "I just want to get home. Is Perry here yet?"

"He and Paul are coming back from Manzana Valley," Hamilton said. "We can call them from the car and let them know I'm taking you home."

Della smiled more. "Why, thank you, Mr. Burger."

"Well, there's no sense of calling a cab," Hamilton half-muttered with an awkward gesture.

"What did Perry say when you called him?" Della asked. "I know he must have been worried sick."

"He was," Hamilton agreed. He had to wonder how much to say. He really didn't want to be the one to tell her that Perry suspected she had been possessed by a necklace!

"Well, did he say what happened when I left?" Della pressed.

They stepped outside and over to Hamilton's car. "He was sort of vague on that point," Hamilton said as he unlocked it.

Della frowned. "Mr. Burger, you've never made a good liar. There's something you're not telling me."

Hamilton let out a frustrated breath. "Alright," he said, opening the passenger door for Della before going around to the driver's side. "The fact is, Perry doesn't know why you left. He said you said some very strange things about Tobin Wade and then ran out."

Della froze. "What?" Quickly she slid into the car, pulling the door after her. "Mr. Burger, why would I be talking about Tobin Wade?"

"We don't know," Hamilton answered. "Perry said you said that Aaron Stuart must have betrayed Wade first or Wade wouldn't have started doing the things he did."

Della slumped back in the seat, stunned. "I wouldn't say something like that!" she gasped. "Poor Dr. Stuart! He and Mrs. Stuart never did anything to Tobin Wade and yet he turned against them both!"

"Yes, I know." Hamilton started the engine and began to pull out of the hospital parking space. "But according to Perry, you still said that. And you spoke with a Southern accent."

"What?" Della stared at him. Once again, just as in Aaron Stuart's office, that seemed significant. She knew that she knew the meaning of it deep down, but for the life of her she could not call it forth now. "Mr. Burger, did Perry say anything else?"

Hamilton cringed. ". . . He mentioned a woman named Ellena Fanchon," he said slowly.

"Ellena . . . of course. She stole the necklace and was murdered in New Orleans." Della frowned. "I wanted to solve her murder."

" _The_ necklace?" Hamilton glanced at her.

"Yes, the necklace that Gene Torg and Pearl Chute were talking about," Della said.

"Oh," said Hamilton.

"It's back in the safe in Perry's office," Della said, not remembering she had mentioned that before. "Why was he talking about Ellena?"

"He . . ." Hamilton wondered how to put it delicately. "He wondered if you were exposed to the necklace for an unhealthy period of time."

"Mr. Burger, I don't know what you're talking about," Della said helplessly. Even so, her insides were beginning to twist. Something about his words made her very, very anxious.

"He . . . oh, for Heaven's sake. He thinks maybe you were possessed by the necklace, the same way Pearl Chute claims she was." Hamilton braced himself for Della's reaction.

"That's impossible!" Della shot back. "I never even put the necklace on."

"We know you didn't. But Perry still felt it was something that should be considered. He just can't believe you would say the things you did if you were aware of what you were saying."

"Of course I wouldn't! But I wasn't possessed either!" Still, Della slumped back in the seat. _Could_ she have been? It could explain the gaps in her memory and the bizarre things she had said. A shiver ran down her spine.

"You know it's the last thing I want to believe," Hamilton said. "Perry feels it should be considered along with everything else. Maybe he has a point, especially after some of the cases we've had lately, but I'd still rather not consider it."

"And what's left aside from that?" Della countered. "I don't like thinking that I could have said those things on my own, either."

"But that's possible," Hamilton said. "Maybe you just need a long rest. If there's something actually wrong with you, Della, that shouldn't be ignored because we're all thinking that some mysterious spirit is trying to control you."

"That's true," Della conceded. "But the opposite could also be said, Mr. Burger. What if we don't consider the spirit and she's able to wreck more havoc because we're focused on thinking I might be losing my mind?"

Hamilton sighed in exasperation. "Oh, I don't know what to do!" he exclaimed.

Della sighed too. "Let's wait and see how I feel in the morning," she encouraged. "I'm planning to have a nice, long rest tonight."

"Alright," Hamilton conceded. "Fair enough."

"And maybe we could talk to Mignon, too," Della suggested. "She might have an idea of what to do."

"I'm sure she'd have something," Hamilton agreed. "After I take you home, I can call and talk to her and see what she'd say."

Della smiled. "Thank you."

"Of course, she'll probably lean more towards the possession angle," Hamilton grimaced.

"I know," Della said. "I think we should hear what someone well-versed in the occult might say."

Hamilton sighed.

In the necklace, overhearing the conversation, Ellena frowned to herself. Her allies were right; she had been much too bold and brash. She could not let her presence be revealed ever again. Now she was relieved that in the morning she had placed that order for an identical, paste copy of the necklace to be made. When it was ready, she would take and place it in the safe with the earrings. No one would discover that Della still had possession of the genuine article. They couldn't, not until the plan was fully realized and Aaron Stuart paid for what he had done.

xxxx

Steve was sitting at his desk, looking over a file, when Sergeant Brice hurried into the office. "Lieutenant?"

Steve looked up. "What is it?" He lowered his reading glasses, studying his partner.

"We finally got an I.D. on the body in Topanga Canyon," Brice said, handing Steve a piece of paper. "And get this: he and Gene Torg used to work at the same place. It's a small establishment; they must have known each other."

"Oh really?" Steve glanced over the information and then looked up. "I guess it's time to get Mr. Torg back in here."

Brice nodded. "I've already ordered him brought in for more questioning."

Steve was pleased. "Good." He set the paper down on his desk. "It sounds like our two-bit con artist hasn't been telling us the whole story. It will be interesting to find out what else he's held back."


	6. Canyon

**Chapter Six**

Perry, Paul, and Pete were just getting off the freeway in Los Angeles when Perry's phone rang. Thinking it might be news about Della, he grabbed it up. "Hello?"

"Perry?" It was Steve. "I tried calling your office and you weren't in."

"It's been a long day, Steve," Perry said. "What's up?"

"Well, I'm calling on behalf of Gene Torg. He's desperate to reach you and I didn't think I should give him your cell number." Steve leaned back in his office chair.

"What's wrong with Mr. Torg now?" Perry frowned. "Are you booking him for murder?"

"No, not yet." Steve sighed. "We still haven't been able to prove or disprove that the body in Topanga Canyon didn't fall by accident. What we have learned is that his name was Walt Selkirk and that he and Mr. Torg used to work at the same place."

"What does Mr. Torg have to say about that?" Perry asked.

Paul glanced at him curiously, but didn't ask questions. In the backseat, Pete also looked confused.

"He claims that he didn't know Selkirk, even though it was a small business." Steve looked over his notepad.

"Is that possible?" Perry wanted to know.

"Yes, it's possible," Steve admitted grudgingly. "It just isn't probable."

Perry sighed. "If you're not booking Mr. Torg, what exactly is it he wants me to do?"

"He wants your continued assurance that you'll look into the matter and represent him if the time comes," Steve said.

"Tell him he has it," Perry responded instantaneously.

"You can just agree like that?" Steve leaned forward, setting the notepad on his desk. "Gene Torg isn't the type of person you usually want to represent."

"This is less about him and more about me trying to figure out how all these pieces connect," Perry said. "There has to be a connection somewhere. Steve, do you know who currently owns Tobin Wade's cabin?"

"Yeah," Steve said in surprise. "A woman named Jane Madsen. She won't stay there; she lives here in the city. She's been trying to sell the property for some time now."

"I'm assuming the police have questioned her about Mr. Selkirk's death."

"Of course we did. She was just as surprised as Gene Torg claims he is. She was in the city when the death is estimated to have happened. There's witnesses to prove it."

"I think it's time we went up to Topanga Canyon and had a look around for ourselves," Perry said.

Steve sighed. "You won't find anything, Perry. Sergeant Brice and I have been over that area both last night and this morning."

"I'd like to try anyway," Perry insisted. There was no room for argument in his voice. Della's involvement in the bizarre goings-on made this case much more personal than most. No matter what it took, he was going to find out what was happening and why.

"If you want to go up there and wait around for some sort of ghostly antics to scare you out of your tree, be my guest," Steve said. "Just be careful!"

"We will. Thank you for calling, Steve." Perry hung up before Steve could ask any more questions.

"And _what_ was that about?" Paul asked. "More particularly, what was that about going up to Topanga Canyon and looking around?"

"Hamilton said he was taking Della home and she seemed alright," Perry said. "That wasn't long ago, so she's probably still up. After we check in on her, I'm thinking we should go on to Topanga Canyon and see if we can catch any of these ghostly manifestations in the act."

"Maybe they only go on if the perpetrator knows without a doubt that someone is going to be up there," Pete suggested.

"Maybe," Perry said noncommittally. "I say it's about time we find out."

Paul cringed. "Chasing after ghosts in the dark is not really what I had in mind for tonight. What if one of us falls just like the guy the police are trying to identify?"

"That would be Mr. Walt Selkirk, and I'll see to it that we won't," Perry said.

"I don't know how you can positively guarantee that," Paul said in exasperation.

"For one thing, I planned we'd stay in the car," Perry said. "If we do get out, I don't intend to leave the front of Wade's property. That's safe enough."

Paul shook his head. "Wade was a Grade A creep, but I sure wish we could ask him what's going on and why."

"I have to admit, Paul, so do I," Perry frowned. "Or that one of our allies on the other side could tell us about it. But we can't rely on the dead for answers to all our mysteries. We have to solve them ourselves."

"Don't I know it," Paul sighed. He turned onto the street where Della lived and pulled up in front of her apartment house. "I suppose you want one of us to research Walt Selkirk?"

"That would be nice," Perry agreed. "See if you can figure out what he was doing by Wade's cabin in the first place."

Paul gave him a look of exasperation. "Unless he told someone, he's the only one who knows that!"

"Well, do your best," Perry said with a smile, clapping Paul on the upper arm.

xxxx

Della was indeed still awake in her apartment, listening as Hamilton outlined the situation for Mignon Germaine over the telephone's speaker. Della leaned on the back of the couch, placing her hands on top of it.

Mignon, as Hamilton had predicted, strongly suspected the possibilities of possession or mind control. Hamilton, looking exasperated, leaned into the corner of the couch as she explained her ideas on what to do.

"Naturally, we need to determine whether this necklace actually does hold a spirit and is capable of being the instrument of possession," she said.

"And how do we do that?" Hamilton asked, wishing he wasn't having this conversation.

"I'll need to examine the necklace," Mignon said. "Would it be possible to see it tonight?"

"Tomorrow would be better," Della quickly inserted, and then frowned. Why had she said that?

"Alright, Miss Street," Mignon said. "Would it be alright if I come by the office tomorrow morning around eleven?"

"That would be fine," Della said. "Thank you, Mrs. Germaine. I really appreciate it."

"It isn't any trouble," Mignon said. "It sounds as though you're in quite a situation, no matter what the explanation is behind it."

"I certainly am," Della sighed. She started at the sound of the doorbell. "Oh, someone's at the door. It's probably Perry. Excuse me, Mrs. Germaine. Thank you again!"

She hurried to the door and hauled it open. "Perry! Paul!" she greeted with a smile. "Oh, and Pete too. Hello!"

"Hello, Della," Perry smiled.

"Hi," Pete waved.

"Hi, Beautiful," Paul grinned. "Glad to see you're looking well after what happened today."

"I wish I _knew_ what happened today," Della fretted, holding the door open wider so they could come in.

"So do we," Perry said, taking her up on the unspoken invitation and entering the room. "You gave us quite a scare."

"And poor Dr. Stuart!" Della exclaimed. "What does he ever think?"

"Well, the good news is that he knows you couldn't have been yourself," Perry said. "So does Mrs. Stuart."

"I'm glad of that, at least," Della sighed. "But I feel terrible to have said such horrible things to them."

"We're going to get to the bottom of it," Perry vowed. "Oh. Hamilton," he said in surprise, only noticing the district attorney now.

Hamilton, who was just finishing the conversation with Mignon, got off the couch. "Hello, Perry. I'm glad you could get here."

"It can only be for a moment," Perry said. "Paul needs to get Pete home. He has a long day tomorrow. But we had to stop in and make sure Della was alright." He looked back to his long-time secretary and dear friend.

"I am now," Della assured him. "I was just going to go to bed. Oh, but Perry, Mignon Germaine is going to stop in at the office tomorrow morning at eleven." She was bracing herself to make a long explanation of why, but Perry just took it in stride and seemed pleased.

"Good," he declared. "We could use her help." Sobering, he said, "Della, about that necklace . . ."

"Mr. Burger told me what you've been wondering, Perry," Della interrupted. "I have to admit, now I'm wondering too. I know it sounds like something out of a late-night horror picture, but it really is a strange coincidence that I suddenly can't remember things I've said and done after handling that necklace. Especially after what Pearl Chute said. Mignon is coming out to look at the necklace and see what she thinks."

"Hopefully she can point us in the right direction," Perry nodded. "Alright, Della, we'll get out of here and let you get some sleep. But call me if you have any more memory lapses," he added firmly. "No matter what time it is."

"I will," Della promised. "Stay safe driving."

"We intend to," said Perry.

xxxx

Topanga Canyon was eerie at night. Of course, most canyons would be, but when it was supposedly haunted, that made it all the worse.

Paul shuddered as he pulled up in front of Tobin Wade's cabin. "So now what?" he sighed. "We just sit and wait?"

"For a while," Perry agreed. "If nothing happens, we'll get out and investigate."

"I noticed you didn't tell Della what we were planning to do after taking Pete home," Paul observed.

"There was no need to worry her," Perry said. "She has enough problems right now."

Paul drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "So, did you find out exactly when things tend to happen?"

"Just like at the school, there _is_ no set time," Perry replied.

"So we could be sitting out here scaring ourselves for nothing," Paul said flatly.

"Oh, not for nothing, Paul. We should familiarize ourselves with the layout anyway."

"Which is completely easy to do in the dark," Paul grunted.

For some time they waited without anything happening. But when without warning a twig cracked and a silhouetted figure darted across the property towards the house, both men immediately jumped to attention.

"Let's go after him," Paul declared. "He's not supposed to be there, whoever he is."

"Wait a minute, Paul." Perry reached out, holding Paul back with a hand to his chest. "Let's see what he does."

"He's trying the knob," Paul exclaimed. "Now he's taking something out to pick the lock!"

"Alright," Perry said. "Let's go."

They both exited the car, leaving the doors open so as not to make noise shutting them. The figure, much too occupied with his task, never looked up. By the time Perry and Paul were approaching the porch and he realized he was not alone, there wasn't anywhere to run.

"Okay, Buster," Paul said. "Come on down."

Instead of doing as ordered, the man bolted, attempting to fly down the stairs and past the two strong men. They instantly grabbed him.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" he cried, struggling against their grip. "You've got it all wrong."

Paul started. "Dave?!" he said in disbelief.

Perry's eyes narrowed. " _You're_ David Solomon, from Amos Berry's car shop?"

The man's shoulders slumped. "Yes."

"What are you doing breaking into this cabin?" Perry asked. "Do you know whose it is?"

"Yes—Tobin Wade's. He was the sleaze who turned against his friends for money and real estate. But I wasn't breaking in for any ill purpose; I was trying to find out who's been using this cabin to scare the wits out of anyone who comes up here!"

Paul frowned. "What difference would it make to you?"

"I . . ." David shook his head. "I just don't want to see Aaron Stuart hurt any more. Wade hurt him enough."

"More than enough, but now I have to ask why you're so concerned about Aaron Stuart," Perry said. "You _did_ telephone him last night and warn him, didn't you?"

"I did." David tried to pull away, but Perry still held fast. Sighing, David averted his gaze instead. "As for why I'm concerned, that's my business."

"Aaron Stuart could use all the friends he can get right now," Perry said. "Why not help him out in the open?"

"I can do more good like this, from the shadows." David still wouldn't face them. "Will you let me go now?"

Paul looked over him to Perry. "I think we can trust him, Perry. He's always done good work for Amos."

"I suppose, but that doesn't really . . ." Perry trailed off. "Alright, Mr. Solomon. You can go."

David pulled away in relief. "You won't be sorry," he vowed.

"I hope not, but if you're going to be looking into this, you could get hurt," Perry warned. On a whim he asked, "Have you ever heard of Ellena Fanchon?"

David rocked back as though he truly had seen a ghost. "What about Ellena?!"

Paul shot Perry a stunned look. "Basically, she's the doll who stole an emerald necklace in New Orleans and was murdered there," he explained. "The necklace wound up here last night, where somebody gave it to Gene Torg."

David took several steps back, clearly reeling. "Her murder was never solved. The necklace disappeared that night. How strange that it should turn up now."

"How strange that it should turn up any time," Perry said. "Why now?"

"That's what I'd like to know," David exclaimed.

"Would you mind telling us how you know Ellena Fanchon?" Perry pressed. "From your reaction, she meant a great deal to you."

"She was a . . . a friend."

"Did she know Tobin Wade and Aaron Stuart?"

"Tobin Wade, yes," David nodded. "She talked about him sometimes. She never met Dr. Stuart."

"But she knew about him?"

"Of course she did," David snapped, his patience beginning to crack. "Wade talked about him."

"And how did she feel about him?"

"She . . ." David looked down. "She believed he was a wretched man when she knew what Wade was starting to do to hurt him. She never would believe that Wade instigated it; she was sure that Dr. Stuart did something first."

"Did Wade ever tell her that?" Perry's stomach was starting to turn. This information corroborated Della's behavior all too well.

"He told her something. And he didn't try to correct her when she ended up believing falsehoods." David's hand clenched into a fist. "He was the most selfish, twisted man I've ever known."

"How did you know him?" Perry wished that they could see better in the dark. He wanted to look into David's eyes. "Only through Ellena?"

"What is this?!" David cried. "I came here to try to help. You act like I'm on trial!"

Perry took a step forward. "This case is very personal to me, Mr. Solomon. Whatever it takes, I'm going to find out what's going on!"

"And it would be a lot better for you to work with us and not against us, Dave," Paul added. "When Perry wants something, he'll do whatever he can to get it. He means what he says."

"I know he does." David drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Mr. Mason. I didn't mean to lose my temper. It's just that I . . . I don't like to think about Tobin Wade. I don't want Dr. Stuart to have to, either. It infuriates me that someone is trying to make it look like Wade's coming back from the grave to haunt Dr. Stuart. As for why I'm concerned, I realize it's a legitimate question. Basically, I just feel that Wade hurt too many people already."

"Including you or someone close to you?" Perry queried.

"You could put it that way, yes." David twisted the lock-pick in his hands. "I want his trail of heartless cruelty to end here."

"Unfortunately, someone else feels exactly the opposite," Perry said. "If you have any idea who that might be . . ."

"I don't," David quickly interjected. "Well, Ellena would have been capable of orchestrating something like this. She was crazy about Wade. But since we know she's dead . . ."

"Mr. Solomon, do you believe that the spirit carries on after death?" Perry demanded.

David started. "What? . . ." He looked down again. "Yes. Yes, Mr. Mason, I do."

"Then could Ellena orchestrate something like this from beyond the grave?" Perry watched him closely.

"Well . . ." David gave a helpless shrug. "I never considered it. I guess if she could find some friends of Wade's or mercenaries willing to do it for a few bucks, she might."

"Can you think of any other friends of Wade's who might like to be involved?"

"To be honest, no." David shook his head. "Wade's friends all knew him through the façade he used. When the truth came out, they were all disgusted."

"And yet you apparently didn't see that façade," Perry mused.

"I just knew what he was really like," David said harshly. "No façade in the world would work on me, not if he was using it."

"How very interesting. Do you mind telling us where you were after Wade's death?" Perry studied him. "If it wasn't that the murderer already confessed, I'd have to think that you had a motive just as good."

"And I'm kind of wondering why you didn't warn Dr. Stuart about Wade, if you saw through his masks," Paul said. "Maybe if someone had warned him about what Wade was up to when he was only stealing textbooks, things never would have escalated as much as they did."

"Now that really is territory that isn't your business," David retorted. "If you don't need me for anything else, I'm leaving now."

Perry calmly nodded and stepped aside. "Very well. But we may want to question you more later."

David started to walk off, but then paused and looked back. "Don't worry about me, Mr. Mason, Paul." His voice had softened. Now he sounded genuinely concerned. "Please, just focus on Dr. Stuart's problems. If you honestly think Ellena is part of what's happening, I'll try to find her and reach out to her."

"Would you be able to get through to her?" Perry wondered. "If you couldn't while she was alive, I doubt you could now that she's dead."

"We'll see." David resumed walking.

Paul came up next to Perry, watching the other man leave. "I swear I didn't know any of what he told us," he said. "I had no idea Dave was mixed up in this at all. I never even considered that he was the one who phoned Dr. Stuart!"

"What _do_ you know about him?" Perry asked.

"Not much," Paul admitted. "He went to work for Amos about three years ago. We're on friendly terms and he does a great job with my car when it needs work done. I don't think Amos knows much about him, either."

"I want to know more." Perry started twisting the ring on his little finger. "Paul, find out everything there is to know about Mr. David Solomon."

"It'll be a pleasure," Paul declared. "Now I want to know too."

xxxx

It was deep in the night when Della stirred and slowly got out of bed. Her eyes were blank and bleary; she was following a suggestion that Ellena had planted in her mind right before she had taken off the necklace and placed it in her purse earlier that day. Now she went over to it, unzipping the compartment and taking out the emerald jewelry. As she put it on, her eyes cleared and she giggled.

"That's better," Ellena crowed. "You and me, we're going out on the town tonight, Honey. Then we'll pick up the paste necklace in the morning and slip it into ol' Mason's safe for that voodoo woman to look at. Unless she can tell a real emerald from a fake, she'll declare the necklace spirit-free and _I'll_ be home free! No one will be looking for me again. You'll be found to be of sound mind too, so they won't lock you up. I can't have that now, not until Aaron Stuart pays. He has to pay, you know. It's his fault Tobin turned crooked and ended up dead! I know _I'm_ crooked and all, but Tobin was better than that. He wouldn't have fallen that far if someone hadn't pushed him to it!"

As she dressed and sent for a cab, the real Della remained asleep, having no idea that the strange and unwelcome presence had taken over her body once more. Nor did she awaken when the cab arrived and Ellena waltzed out for a few hours of fun. Unless a miracle happened, she would stay unaware until Ellena chose to let her have control again.


	7. Cold

**Notes: I really do grow weary of posting chapters when I know that each one is apparently going to be greeted by a pointless and broken-record complaint. I tried to be polite and patient and explain how long the story will likely be, hoping that would appease this mysterious party. It hasn't. If said party is actually interested in this story, may I respectfully suggest that they would be happier waiting until the story is complete before they resume reading? If they choose to continue reading as it goes up, they will simply have to accept that it's going to be a long story and chapters are very naturally going to leave some things unresolved. I rather suspect that instead of being genuinely interested, this person is a troll who thinks they're being funny. If I am given further reason to believe this, I will commence ignoring said person and deleting their comments.**

 **Chapter Seven**

Officer Jimmy Anderson sighed, pushing up his hat as he settled back in the squad car. It had been a long day and night and he was relieved that his shift was just about over. It would feel good to go home and get some sleep.

He had met up with Officers Reed and Malloy while on patrol, which was nice. They had decided to finish out their shifts together since they were examining the same area tonight.

He perked up at the sight of a woman coming out of the nightclub across the street. The area had been so devoid of people for the last hour that he had started to wonder if anyone was around at all. This woman seemed to be out for a good time and knew exactly what she wanted.

"Ma'am?"

Officer Malloy was approaching her now. "Is this your car?" he asked, indicating a blue convertible near a fire hydrant. She was studying herself in one of the side mirrors.

"Why, certainly not," she retorted, straightening up. "I came in a cab." She smiled at him. "But say, you're cute for a cop. Why don't you join me for some fun tonight?"

Malloy looked somewhat amused. "No, thank you, Ma'am. Maybe some other time."

"Yeah, you've gotta find out who had the gall to park in front of a hydrant, after all!" the woman said, proceeding to stroll on her way.

Definitely amused, Malloy watched her go.

She was coming towards Jimmy now, walking past his car. As she drew closer, he sat up straight in bewilderment. "No," he gasped. "It can't be. Miss Street?!"

He shook his head. He was seeing things, surely. This woman was blonde and spoke with a Southern accent. That wasn't Della.

Still, if her hair was dark instead of light, and the drawl was gone . . .

He sighed. Boy, did he ever need to get some sleep.

xxxx

The night passed in relative peace, bringing with it a chilly autumn morning that nevertheless seemed peaceful as well. Pete Kelton made the drive to Manzana Valley, where he was introduced to the staff and the students as the new permanent gym teacher. They seemed accepting and friendly enough, and as everyone began to separate to attend their classes, the science teacher made her way over to him.

"Hello," she greeted. "I'm Janet Gwynne."

Pete perked up. This was someone he definitely wanted to talk to. "Hi, Ms. Gwynne," he said, touching the brim of his hat.

"I hope you'll enjoy your time here," Janet said as they started walking. "Dr. Stuart has been having a very difficult time filling the position of phys ed teacher. It will be wonderful if you stay on."

"I hope I will," Pete said. "But he's been having trouble, you say? What kind?"

"Oh . . . for some reason the gym teachers either can't or won't stay on permanently," Janet said. "One of them received what he felt was a better offer. Another said he'd rather work in the big city. Another . . . well . . ." She trailed off, seeming to feel that she was starting to say too much to the new teacher.

" _Well_ what?" Pete asked.

"Nevermind," Janet said hurriedly. "Anyway, the point is, I really want to welcome you to the school."

"Thank you," Pete said. Deciding he would have to approach the subject himself, he said, "Were you going to say that the other teacher left because of the strange things that have been happening here?"

Janet froze. "You've already heard about that?" she gasped.

"Dr. Stuart told me when I came in this morning," Pete said. "He knew I'd be hearing it from the students soon and he thought it would be better if he told me himself."

"And you still wanted to stay?" Janet looked amazed, even incredulous.

Pete shrugged. "It kind of fascinates me, actually," he said. "Anyway, I notice you're not leaving."

"Oh, well, I've been with Dr. Stuart since his first Manzana Valley Prep School," Janet said. "I'm not going to leave just because I hear disembodied voices in the hall."

"That's good to hear," Pete said. "But what do you think is causing things like that to happen?"

"I don't know," Janet said in dismay. "I've tried to think, and I suppose the most logical idea is that it's someone's idea of a prank, but I can't think any of the students would do such a thing. They realize it wouldn't be funny and it could actually hurt Dr. Stuart and the school."

"So if it's not a student, then what?" Pete wondered. "Could the school have really been built on an ancient burial ground?" This he said with a slight smile and a twinkle in his eye.

"I guess _anything's_ possible," Janet replied, "but even if that was it, it wouldn't prove that the grounds are haunted by restless spirits."

Pete chuckled. "You've got a point there. Some people don't even believe that the dead haunt graveyards. But so, just out of curiosity, if it isn't a prank and it isn't real ghosts, what does that leave?"

Janet frowned, slowing her pace. "You know, I don't really know."

"Could someone be deliberately trying to hurt the school or someone in it, like Dr. Stuart?" Pete ventured. "I guess I read too many mysteries, but it's starting to sound like a classic mystery plot to me. Maybe that's part of what got me interested in taking the job."

Janet gave him a look. "I hope you won't be playing amateur detective instead of teaching basketball, Mr. Kelton!"

"I won't, I promise!" Pete said, holding up his hands. "I'm just curious."

Janet flushed. "Oh, don't mind me. I must have sounded awfully rude. I guess I'm just sensitive on the subject because of what happened four years ago."

"What was that?" Pete asked.

"You didn't hear about the Tobin Wade scandal?" Janet sighed. "I really shouldn't be saying anything, but you'll hear it soon enough anyway."

"I didn't hear anything about a scandal involving the school or Dr. Stuart," Pete said. "Maybe I'd remember if you told me something about it."

"Tobin Wade was Dr. Stuart's friend and assistant at the first Manzana Valley Prep School," Janet explained. "When this area was going to be developed more fully, the developer badly wanted the piece of property the school was on. Tobin . . . well, I still don't fully understand what happened, but he got greedy and started doing everything he could to cause the school to shut down. He had made a deal with someone who would pay him a great deal of money if he could make the property become available for purchase." She glanced up worriedly as the first bell rang. "The short story is, Tobin was murdered and Dr. Stuart was blamed for it, but he was innocent. That lawyer Perry Mason proved that and uncovered the real murderer. But some people are saying now that Tobin is haunting the new school just to torment Dr. Stuart."

"That's very interesting," Pete said, pretending he didn't already know the story. "Do you think there's any truth to it?"

"Not really, no. But then again, I guess I never really knew what Tobin was like." Janet quickly moved to a nearby door. "This is my classroom. Maybe we can continue this discussion later?"

"Sure," Pete said. "Maybe over lunch?"

Janet smiled. "That would be fine. Goodbye, Mr. Kelton." She vanished inside, leaving Pete to ponder over things out in the hall.

She certainly _seemed_ sincere about not wanting harm to come to Aaron or the school. But on the other hand, she referred to Tobin Wade very familiarly. Pete wondered just how close they had been. That might be a subject he could ask some of the other staff members about until it was time for gym class.

xxxx

Perry arrived in his office bright and early and was rather consternated when Della was not there and did not come by what was usually the latest time she ever got there. He had considered picking her up on the way, but had determined that it would be better to let her rest a while longer, just in case she wasn't up yet. By the time it was nearing ten o'clock, however, he was downright worried. He called her apartment and received no answer. The same thing happened when he tried her cell phone. He was just about to call Paul and ask him to help him go out looking when the door opened and a harried Della rushed in.

"Here I am!" she announced. "I'm sorry I'm so late."

"Della, where on Earth have you been?" Perry demanded as he rose from his desk. "I haven't been able to reach you at all!"

Guilt flickered in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Perry. I must have overslept. I was so exhausted. But then I left the house and came here as quickly as I could."

"Did you forget to turn your phone's volume up?" Perry asked. "It seems like I would have got hold of you at least one of the times I phoned."

"I must have forgot exactly that," Della said in dismay. "Perry, I really am sorry."

Perry sighed. "Nevermind that. At least you got here before Mignon Germaine's scheduled appointment." He studied her carefully. "Are you really alright?"

"Why, yes," Della said in surprise. "I promise that's the truth, Perry."

"No more memory lapses?" he persisted, not convinced.

"No. As far as I know, I had a perfect sleep," Della said. "Now, what needs to be done today?"

Realizing there was nothing he could do to get a different answer from her, Perry sighed and directed her to a brief he wanted typed. Silently he hoped that Mignon would bring answers that they both wanted to hear.

xxxx

It was right before eleven that Della got up from the brief and quietly entered the law library from the door in her office. Slipping back into acting on a previously implanted suggestion, she almost mechanically went to the safe and unlocked it before taking out the infamous paper bag Gene Torg had given her two days before. Opening her purse, she placed the barely-finished paste necklace into the bag and then brought the bag into her office to wait for Mignon.

In Perry's office, Paul gave his special knock and entered through the back door. "Hi, Perry," he greeted. "Did Della get in alright?"

"She says she did," Perry said. "I couldn't reach her before she came in, but her explanation is reasonable enough." He leaned back. "I'm probably just overreacting."

Paul sighed. "With all the trouble we've been having, it's hard to know _what's_ overreacting anymore." He went over and sat in his favorite chair facing Perry's desk.

"Well," said Perry, lacing his fingers, "did you have any luck on that research?"

"Nothing seems out of the ordinary about Jane Madsen," Paul reported. "I talked to her right before I came here. The police have been out to talk to her too. She said she's never even heard of Walt Selkirk and has no idea what he was doing at the cabin. I talked to a couple of his coworkers at his current place of employment and they don't know either. He never mentioned the place to them."

Perry sighed. "Maybe it was just a random coincidence," he said. "He might not have even been the man who gave Gene Torg the jewelry."

"I couldn't say about that, but I also ran down the place where he and Torg both worked. There were only two employees there who remember when both of them were employed, and according to them, Mr. Selkirk and Mr. Torg never really associated."

"So it _is_ possible that Mr. Torg doesn't know what he looked like," Perry mused.

"Yeah, it's possible," Paul agreed. "But when it's Gene Torg, it's really hard to know what to believe."

"Touché." Perry watched Paul closely. "What about that other assignment I gave you last night?"

Paul let out an exasperated sigh. "Now _that_ is really interesting. Mr. David Solomon doesn't seem to have even existed before three years ago. The earliest record I can find of his existence is when he went to Amos Berry for a job."

Perry's expression changed to an intent look. "I wonder what would happen if we ran a fingerprint check on him."

"And just who would agree to run a fingerprint check on him just because he was out by Tobin Wade's cabin last night?" Paul retorted.

"I think any of our Lieutenant friends would be willing, considering he was actually trying to break into the cabin," Perry said calmly. "Steve is in charge of the case, along with Sergeant Brice. Try asking one or both of them. They might like to have a talk with him. Alternately, you could take them something he touched, like a particular wrench, and just ask them to check for fingerprints."

"Sergeant Brice might go for that, but I don't think Steve would," Paul sighed. "And how would I get a wrench that only he touched? I'd have to look around the garage for his toolbox, and after last night I don't think I'd be able to get away with that without him getting suspicious!"

"You're probably right," Perry amended. "Alright, just start by telling the police what happened last night and see if they'll agree to talk to him."

"I'm on it." Paul got up. "You'll let me know what happens when Mignon comes?"

Perry smiled. "Of course."

xxxx

That event happened shortly after Paul's departure. Della knocked on Perry's door and then slowly opened it. "Mignon is here," she told him with a smile.

"Good." Perry immediately got up and went into Della's office. "Hello, Mrs. Germaine. It's good to see you again."

"I'm glad to come and try to help," Mignon said. "Miss Street was telling me in greater detail what's been happening since yesterday morning."

Perry nodded. "And what do you think?"

"It's difficult to say. It _could_ be indicative of possession, it's true. But that certainly isn't the only explanation for unusual behavior." Mignon looked to the paper bag on Della's desk. "Is that the necklace?"

"Yes, and the earrings," Della said, holding it out. "There doesn't seem to be anything strange connected with the earrings, though."

Mignon handled them anyway before going on to the necklace. She frowned, puzzled, and Della began to have a sinking feeling.

"What is it, Mrs. Germaine?" Perry asked. "Do you sense anything?"

"No," Mignon answered slowly. "That doesn't mean that there isn't something wrong with the jewelry; I might not necessarily pick up on something amiss with it."

Della found herself feeling desperate and heartsick by this news. "But if even Gene Torg and Pearl Chute sensed something wrong, it would seem like you definitely would as well," she exclaimed.

Mignon gave her a sympathetic look. "No one can sense things all the time, Miss Street. I recommend getting a second opinion before you decide that nothing is wrong with the necklace."

"And if nothing is wrong, and the necklace really isn't possessed, then I must really be going out of my mind," Della practically whispered. She had rarely ever felt so helpless. And she had never thought she would actually be hoping to hear that there was an evil spirit attached to the necklace. Facing the alternative seemed so much worse.

"Let's not think that," Mignon said in concern. "You've always been perfectly in your right mind. I don't believe that would suddenly change."

"But you weren't there yesterday," Della said, half in a daze. "You don't know what I did."

"Here's a possibility you may have not considered," Mignon said kindly. "You were at your worst at the school. What if whatever is behind the mysterious events there possessed you for a time while you were on the grounds and then left you alone once you departed?"

Della blinked in surprise. "I didn't even think of that," she realized.

"Neither did I," Perry said. "That's something we should try looking into. Thank you."

Mignon nodded. "If you would like, I could go to the school and try to determine whether I think the strange events are being caused by the supernatural or human beings."

"I'll pass along your offer to Dr. Stuart," Perry said. "He and I have been trying to focus on the idea that what's happening is courtesy of living people, but it does seem unwise to completely discount the other possibility, especially in light of what's been happening to Della."

"Let me know what Dr. Stuart says and I will be happy to go out there if he wants," Mignon said.

"I will," Perry said. "I should be talking with him today."

"And if you want me to recommend someone else to take a look at that necklace, I will," Mignon said.

"Maybe you could, so we could cover all bases," Della said hopefully, swinging a notepad around to the edge of the desk.

Mignon obliged, writing down the names of a couple of people she knew. Della took it when she was done, looking it over and then passing it on to Perry for examination. "Thank you," she said again.

"I hope you will find a satisfactory answer for your problem, Miss Street," Mignon said. "I can only imagine how it must be plaguing you to not understand what's happening."

"It really has been terrible," Della admitted. "But what bothers me most is knowing that I've been hurting people I care about."

"That would be the very worst thing," Mignon agreed.

After goodbyes had been exchanged and Mignon had departed, Perry looked to Della. "Well?" he asked. "What do you think of Mignon's suggestion that the possible spirit might be at the school?"

"It seems like it could be true," Della said. "I definitely think it's worth investigating. Only . . ." She paused, frowning.

"What is it?" Perry queried.

"Why would the spirit choose me?" Della wondered. "If she was looking for a female body, she could have gone to anyone on the staff or even Mrs. Stuart. Not that I would ever want something horrible like this to happen to any of them, especially Mrs. Stuart," she quickly added. "I just wonder . . . why me?"

"That's a very good question, Della," Perry said. "The necklace seems the more plausible explanation since you've actually handled it. And since the girl Ellena figures into things and she had the necklace. Of course, we don't actually know that she would have stayed with the necklace after her death. Perhaps, since she was so enamored of Tobin Wade, she would have been more likely to go to the school instead."

Della nodded. "If only we could find out something more," she berated.

"Maybe soon we will," Perry said encouragingly. "Pete might be having some luck at the school."

"I hope so," Della said fervently.

xxxx

Pete was indeed learning some interesting things at the school. Many of the staff members had proved fountains of information, especially those who had been with Aaron at the old school. Some had speculated that Janet had actually been romantically involved with Tobin Wade, but no one seemed to know for sure; their relationship might not have gone past coworkers and friends. But Janet had certainly liked and trusted him at any rate and had been crushed by the news of what he had really been.

When it came to the matter of who was trying to make the school appear haunted, however, no one seemed to have any concrete ideas on that. Some said students, others said an unfunny faculty member. There weren't many who thought Aaron was being deliberately targeted for some cruel purpose, or at least if there were, they preferred to stay silent.

Pete was pondering on the information and wondering whether to pause and send a progress report to Paul when several students in the hall up ahead screamed and started scattering. "It's happening again!" one girl yelled.

"I don't hear anything," Pete objected.

"It's starting to feel really cold in that spot," a boy called back.

Wanting to feel that for himself, Pete walked ahead to where everyone had fled. It only took seconds for him to realize that they were right. "This could just be a trick," he said. "There's ways to make it feel like a cold spot when it really isn't a supernatural one." Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that not knowing for sure what was causing it, it really seemed eerie. He shivered, stepping away from the location and wondering what to do.

When the Petersons' house had been made to appear haunted some time back, devices had been hidden in the walls to create cold spots. Telling Aaron about that fact seemed the most logical move to make next. And perhaps after the school day was over, they needed to go over that part of the corridor inch by inch seeking one of those devices.

"What's going on here?!"

Pete looked up as Aaron hurried into the corridor, baffled by the panicking students. Seeing Pete, Aaron slowed down and gave him a questioning look.

"I'm not sure," Pete said. "I think it's one of the 'incidents'—a supposed cold spot."

Aaron stormed forward into the cold spot. "This is outrageous!" he cried. "How could they make it feel like this? There aren't any ventilation grates in this area."

"There's ways," Pete said, "but . . ."

He was cut off as an eerily disembodied voice reverberated down the hall. _"Aaron Stuart! By the time of the masquerade ball, you will pay for what you did to Tobin Wade."_

"What?!" Aaron's patience and temper were swiftly unraveling. "I didn't do anything to Tobin! It was his choice to turn against me out of selfishness and greed!"

" _Tobin Wade tells a different story."_

"Oh, he always told a different story from the truth," Aaron retorted. "I doubt he even knew what the truth was anymore! Who are you? Why don't you come out and face me man to man, instead of cowardly hiding behind these childish tricks?!"

The only response was a chill breeze that swept past both Aaron and Pete. When it was gone, the coldness of the spot faded as well.

Aaron let out a shaking breath. "I don't know how much more of this I can take!" he exclaimed, running a hand into his thinning hair.

Pete sighed, more disturbed by the experience than he wanted to admit. "We're going to get to the bottom of this," he promised.

"When?!" Aaron wailed.

 _When_ was another question. And now it seemed certain that whoever it was wouldn't stop at these 'childish tricks.' Pete had the feeling that Aaron could very well be in grave danger at the masquerade ball. Maybe even sooner.

It was definitely time to make that progress report to Paul.


	8. Fingerprints

**Chapter Eight**

Perry was definitely right that the police were interested in talking to David Solomon once Paul informed them that he had tried to break into Tobin Wade's cabin. That afternoon, Steve and Brice marched into Amos Berry's shop and Steve held out his badge to the elderly owner, who had been working on a Jaguar.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Berry," he greeted. "I'm Lieutenant Drumm. This is Sergeant Brice. We're here to talk to one of your employees, David Solomon."

"Eh?" Amos frowned. "What do you want with him? He's working on a car right now."

"It won't take long," Steve assured him.

"Well . . . alright, I guess." Amos turned, calling to David in the back of the shop. "Hey! There's a Lieutenant Crumb and a Sergeant Mice to see you." He frowned in confusion. "Those are funny names for men to have. Well, I'll leave you to whatever it is you came here to do." He departed, heading for his office.

Steve turned to Brice with a bemused expression. "Paul wasn't kidding when he told us to watch out for Mr. Berry's hearing problem."

Brice shook his head. "Of all things, it had to be 'Mice'," he bemoaned.

Steve looked like he wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. "At least it's better than 'Crumb.'"

"They're both pretty bad," Brice chuckled.

David came over to them, warily wiping his hands on a cloth. "What is it you want?" he asked. "I wasn't aware that I had broken any laws, Lieutenant."

"The last I heard, breaking and entering is against the law," Steve retorted. "Why were you trying to get into Tobin Wade's cabin last night?"

David stiffened. "I see Mr. Mason and Mr. Drake have been talking. Well, I can assure you, I wasn't up to anything bad. I wanted to see if I could figure out how and why the cabin is being used to appear haunted."

"Why?" Steve asked. "It seems to us that you have a strange level of interest in that cabin and this case."

"I just think Aaron Stuart's suffered enough because of Tobin Wade. That's all." David stuffed the cloth into his pocket. "I knew Wade; he was a real crumb. And I should tell you, Lieutenant, I wasn't breaking into the cabin. Mr. Mason and Mr. Drake thought so because they didn't clearly see what was in my hand."

"Are you trying to tell us you have a key?" Steve raised an eyebrow. "Jane Madsen is the current owner. She didn't mention anything about giving a key to anyone other than the realtor."

"Wade gave keys around sometimes," David said. "One of Dr. Stuart's teachers, Janet Gwynne, had one."

"I doubt he gave keys to anyone who wasn't a friend," Steve said, "and from what you told Mr. Mason and Mr. Drake, it doesn't sound like you were one."

"I have one anyway. If you want, Lieutenant, I'll get it and show you." David stared him down.

Steve stared right back. "I'd like that."

"Fine." David unzipped his coveralls and reached into his trousers pocket, removing a keychain. After locating one key in particular, he extracted it from the ring and handed it to Steve. "Check it against Ms. Madsen's key."

"We'll do that. But now would you mind telling us why you have it?" Steve demanded.

"There wasn't anyone to give it to when Wade died," David said.

"You're evading the question," Steve frowned. "How did you get it in the first place? Did one of Wade's friends give it to you?"

"Something like that," David said.

"Mm hmm." Steve was not convinced. "Would you also mind telling us why no one can find any proof of your existence before three years ago?"

"How should I know?" David grunted. "People's records get lost all the time."

"Not all of them," Steve retorted. "Not unless someone deliberately arranges for it to happen."

"I didn't do that," David said firmly.

Steve gave him a hard look. "No, I don't think you did," he agreed. "I don't think you had any records to lose . . . at least, not under the name of David Solomon." He stared at David, who flinched. "Are you an ex-convict, Mr. Solomon?"

"No, I'm not!" David insisted. "And if you don't believe me, you can take my fingerprints." He held out a hand.

Steve nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Mr. Solomon. If you'll come with us, we'll see to that at the station."

"Fine. I'll just tell Amos where I'm going." David finished stepping out of the coveralls, which he threw aside as he walked in determination to Amos's office.

"What do you make of him?" Steve asked his partner and friend while they observed.

"He definitely has something to hide," Brice said. "But whatever it is, he's pretty adamant that his fingerprints aren't going to lead us to it."

Steve nodded. "Which means they probably won't." He folded his arms. "What bothers me is how vague he is about that key. I wonder just how many of them Wade had to throw around."

"Are you going to try to find out?" Brice queried in surprise.

"Maybe, if I can find out what locksmith he used," Steve replied. "My guess is, that will probably be a dead end too. But there's no harm in trying . . . after we verify that this really is a key to the cabin." He slipped it into his pocket. "Jane Madsen should be able to tell us that."

xxxx

Paul was deeply disturbed when he got back to his office and found the message from Pete. He immediately called his operative for any possible updates.

"What's going on there now?" he asked after a shaken Pete had answered and they had greeted each other.

"Dr. Stuart is still pretty upset," Pete said. "Mrs. Stuart is just about beside herself. She wonders if they should postpone the masquerade ball."

"That wouldn't do any good," Paul frowned. "They'd just find another time and place to get back at Dr. Stuart."

"That's what Dr. Stuart told her," Pete said. "Anyway, he's so sick of what's been going on that he wonders if he wouldn't welcome finding out for sure who's behind it, even if he has to be in danger to do it."

Paul sighed. "Well, we've got to keep trying to solve this thing beforehand so he won't have to be."

"That won't be easy," Pete said. "The masquerade ball's not that far off, you know."

"I know; it's this weekend," Paul replied. "But a lot could happen between now and then. I've been doing some investigating down here in the city, but I'll come up there and start talking to people in town."

"That would be great, Paul. Thanks."

"Oh, how's your cover going?" Paul wondered.

"Class was fine. As far as I know, none of the teachers heard Dr. Stuart and I talking in the hall when the threat came, so hopefully no one realizes yet that I'm here for a purpose other than teaching basketball."

"Okay. Stay safe." Paul hung up and dialed the police station. When he asked to speak to Lieutenant Drumm, it seemed that he was on hold far longer than he should have been.

"Hello?" Steve came on when Paul was just about to give up. He definitely sounded harried.

"Hi, Steve," Paul frowned. "Did you get to talk to Dave?"

"I sure did. There's a lot of mysteries surrounding that man," Steve sighed. "His fingerprints are just one of them. He volunteered to come in and let us take his fingerprints. I just got the report back—they're not on record. If David Solomon is not his real name, we still don't know what is. Oh, and Paul, you and Perry were mistaken about him using a lock-pick to get into Wade's cabin."

"What?! We saw he had something he was fiddling with!" Paul gripped the phone. "Wait a minute. You're not saying he had a key!"

"He did. Jane Madsen confirmed it. She doesn't know how he got it, but her key is a perfect match."

"Well, what does Dave say about it?" Paul demanded.

"He didn't say much of anything. He was very vague on how he got the key." Steve paused. "Paul, what I'm wondering is whether he could have killed this Ellena Fanchon person in New Orleans and taken the necklace and her key with him."

"Come on, Steve," Paul retorted. "Ellena was supposed to be his friend. Maybe it was her key, if she had one, but that doesn't mean he killed her."

"It doesn't mean he didn't, either," Steve said. "Paul, you know sometimes friends or even romantic partners end up killing each other."

"Yeah, I know," Paul barked. "I just . . . didn't want to have to think that about Dave."

"Just keep it in mind as a possibility anyway," Steve said tiredly.

"I'll do that much," Paul agreed. "Did you find out anything else?"

"Nothing really relevant. I'm still checking into any possible leads on David Solomon's identity."

"Good. I'm going up to Manzana Valley to see what I can find out from the people up there," Paul said. "Maybe someone will know who might be targeting Dr. Stuart."

"I just wonder if David Solomon knows," Steve said wryly. "I'm having him followed."

"I don't think he knows anyone specific," Paul said. "Except he said that Ellena girl would probably be capable of it."

"Only she's dead, so we've hit another dead end," Steve retorted.

Paul hesitated. Did he really want to tell Steve that Perry wondered if Della had been possessed by Ellena?

"Paul?"

". . . Yeah, it's probably not her then," Paul said quickly. "Unless she's reaching out from the grave to do it."

Steve chuckled. "Let's try not to turn every case into a late-night horror show. Okay, Paul?"

"Gladly," Paul sighed.

He hung up, wondering how they would ever solve the mystery before the masquerade ball. And wondering just how deeply David Solomon was really involved.

xxxx

Perry and Della were definitely worried to hear how the case was proceeding when Paul checked in. "Poor Dr. Stuart," Della exclaimed. "This masquerade ball is an important event for the school. Even if he doesn't end up hurt, there's probably going to be a lot of bad publicity if something happens there."

"That's what we have to count on," Perry replied. "We'll have to do everything we can to prevent it."

Della nodded grimly. "Have you decided what kind of costume you're going to wear?"

Perry raised an eyebrow. "Costume?"

"It's a masquerade ball," Della replied in a You-won't-be-able-to-get-out-of-this-one tone of voice. "Everyone will be in costume, including, I'm sure, the faculty."

"Which we are not," Perry grunted. "But yes, I've thought about it. How about you?"

Della smiled and folded her arms. "I think mine will be a surprise."

"Hmm. Then that will give me something to look forward to," Perry said.

"If Paul's coming with us, maybe he'll be Don Juan," Della said in amusement. Sobering slightly, she added, "Poor Paul; he enjoys dates, but gets interrupted so often."

"But generally for good causes," Perry answered.

"Naturally," Della smiled.

"What did you do about those people Mignon recommended?" Perry asked.

"Oh. I called them. One wasn't available, but the other is coming out this afternoon to see the necklace," Della said.

"Good," Perry said in approval.

"Perry . . ." Della hesitated. "What if she doesn't find anything wrong with it either?"

Perry looked up, hearing the worry in Della's voice. She certainly didn't want to think she had been possessed, but thinking she was losing her mind was so much worse. And he was certain that was not the problem.

"Then we'll look into the idea that maybe Ellena is at the school, like Mignon suggested," he said.

Della smiled weakly. "I just hope that one way or another, we'll solve this."

"We will," Perry insisted. He smiled at her. "And everything's going to be just fine."

Della's smile became stronger. When Perry said it, she really found herself believing it could be true.

xxxx

David was frustrated as he returned to the car shop from the police station. He had been experiencing a string of bad luck ever since he had decided he had to involve himself in what was happening to Aaron Stuart. He had called Aaron from the phone there because he had hoped the call could be laid at the feet of anyone passing through. But when Perry had figured out that he had been responsible, he hadn't denied it. He knew how Perry's mind worked; it had seemed pointless to try to fool him then.

He also wished he hadn't been caught trying to get into the cabin. If he had only noticed the car hidden behind the bushes before he had attempted anything! Now the police had taken notice of him too. He had wanted to stay in the shadows and instead he was squarely in the middle of everything, for everyone to see. He was certainly proving that he wasn't very good at being a detective. He supposed the next thing that might happen would be Perry bringing Aaron out to meet with him. Well, that couldn't be allowed. He would have to stay alert and leave the shop if it happened.

"What did the police want?" Amos asked, his expression and tone gruff as he suddenly appeared.

David was used to his abrupt entrances. "They just wanted to make sure I'm not up to something," he said vaguely.

"And just what would you be up to other than fixing Mr. Mannix's car?" Amos frowned.

"Nothing," David insisted. "It's all a misunderstanding. Don't worry."

"Well . . . it'd better be a misunderstanding," Amos said warily. "I never had any trouble with you before. Now suddenly the police come calling!"

"I'm going to get right back to the car now," David insisted.

"Good. Oh." Amos paused. "Somebody delivered some envelope to you. I put it on the car."

David blinked in surprise. "Who was that?"

"Somebody in a messenger outfit. I don't know." Amos shrugged, then squinted at his chief mechanic. "Who'd be sending you stuff?"

"I can't imagine," David said honestly, both intrigued and concerned now. He started for the dark green convertible.

Amos followed him. "It is kind of funny, when I think about it," he said. "You never get any visitors and you never had any mail come here. It's like you don't really have a life away from this place. Did the police think you're some kind of criminal on the run?"

"Maybe," David said over his shoulder, "but the fingerprint check turned up clean."

"Well . . ." No longer sure what to think, yet not wanting to doubt an employee who had always been hard-working and seemed honest, Amos slowly backed away while keeping close enough to see David's reaction to the envelope.

Taking it off the hood, David tore it open and removed a single sheet of paper with glued-on newspaper letters. He stared at it in disbelief.

STOP INTERFERING WITH WHAT WE'RE DOING

TO AARON STUART. IT'S HIS JUST PUNISHMENT.

IF YOU DON'T LEAVE IT ALONE, IT'LL BE YOURS TOO.

David slumped back. So now word had somehow got back to whoever was behind this. And he had confirmation that there was at least one living person involved, whether or not Ellena also was.

The big question was, who would be interested enough and warped enough where Tobin Wade was concerned to do this to Aaron? Ellena was an unusual case; he really couldn't imagine anyone else would feel the same way. There had to be some other reason why this was happening. The revenge idea had to just be a cover.

Could someone want to close the new school, the same as Wade had wanted with the old one? Or maybe they just wanted the building vacated. Maybe there was something in it they wanted. Still, it was brand-new. It wasn't as though an old treasure was likely to be hidden inside the walls.

He shook his head. He would have to do a little more investigating from this angle. He couldn't go to Manzana Valley, but he had to find the truth.

"Bad news?"

He started at Amos's voice. He had completely forgotten about his boss and hadn't considered that maybe he would still be hanging around to find out what the note was about. "It's nothing to worry about," he said, shoving the note and envelope into his pocket. "I just . . . wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"Hmph. It looked like bad news to me." Not convinced at all, Amos headed for his office.

His eyes dark and grim, David reached for his coveralls. It was bad news, alright, but in another way it was beneficial. He welcomed any clues, however small, that pointed to what was going on or who was behind this.

xxxx

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion for everyone involved. The woman Mignon had recommended arrived to look at the necklace and concluded that there was nothing sinister about it. Perry and Della hence turned their attention to the idea that Ellena was at Manzana Valley Prep School and arranged for Paul to send a message to Pete to try to find out.

Paul ended up giving the message to Pete in person when they had a secret rendezvous following Paul's adventure in town, which had mostly been unproductive. Everyone he had talked to was confused for the same reason—they couldn't think of anyone who would want to do this to Aaron. Paul was ready to trudge home in frustration, hoping that Pete was making progress on the inside. Perhaps it actually was Janet behind everything. Perhaps it was one of the other teachers. Pete would do his best to find out if someone named Ellena was there.

David Solomon, determined to learn something to move the case along, roamed the city streets that night and looked up the current whereabouts of everyone he could think of who had known Tobin Wade. Those he located seemed to have all moved on; Wade was not foremost in their minds. He couldn't imagine that any of them would go to all this trouble to take revenge for Wade's death. It was ridiculous for anyone to try to, since Wade had brought his demise on himself. He still stuck by what he had determined earlier, that the real reason was something else. Unfortunately, from his checks of those who had known Wade, he couldn't come up with one logical reason.

Maybe whoever was behind it never even knew Wade at all. That seemed a greater possibility when considering that maybe the mystery revolved around the school in some way. Maybe they just knew of Aaron's past with Wade and thought playing it up would be the perfect cover for them.

He sighed, running a hand over his face. If the person responsible didn't even know Aaron, it could be almost anyone.

There was that Ellena angle, though. Perry had tried to convince him that she was involved in this. That seemed strange, for a lawyer to be talking about ghosts. Still, David didn't think he should abandon the idea. He knew all too well that ghosts were real. And Ellena didn't seem like the 'Rest in Peace' type.

He had no idea that across town, Ellena had assumed control of Della once again, having fun on the town while Della slept. Although Jimmy had convinced himself that he had been mistaken about what he had seen, and had not told anyone as a result, tonight it was Lieutenant Anderson who coincidentally stumbled on Ellena as she emerged from a nightclub and flirted with the parking valet. As she turned to go, waiting for the cab she had summoned, Andy caught a glimpse of her and her blonde wig under a streetlamp.

"Della?" he called in disbelief. "It's a little early for Halloween, isn't it?"

Ellena jumped a mile, looking to Andy with completely blank eyes. "You must have me mixed up with somebody else, Mr. Officer," she drawled. "I'm not this Della."

Andy shook his head. "No . . . I'd know you anywhere, after all we've been through. Come on, what's this game you're playing?"

Realizing that this wasn't going to be so easy to get out of, Ellena toyed with the end of her feather boa. "It's a game called Reclaiming My True Identity," she said, beginning to coyly sashay around Andy while the valet watched. "It's not really much of a game at all. Actually, I'm pretty serious about it." She wrapped the boa around Andy's neck and drew him closer to her.

For a moment he was dumbfounded. Then, frustrated and bewildered, he reached up and lifted the boa away from him. "I don't know what's going on here, Della, but if this is one of Perry's stunts . . . !"

Ellena leaned in, kissing him on the lips. "Uh uh. It's not Perry; it's all me." She pulled back, running a finger down his cheek. "Bye-bye, Mr. Officer." Winking at him, she strolled past into the arriving cab.

Andy gaped after her. "Wait!" he called at last. "Della . . . !" But the cab was already gone.

Undaunted, Andy rushed back to his car and climbed in. This was too weird to leave alone. He was going to follow Della. Once he saw where she was going, well, he'd decide what to do next from there. Maybe a conference with Lieutenant Tragg was in order. He wanted to find out if Perry had ever orchestrated a stunt like this before. If not, and he really wasn't involved, then Andy wasn't sure what to think at all.

The only thing he knew for sure was that something was very, very wrong.


	9. Discovered

**Chapter Nine**

Andy followed Della to another nightclub, where she strolled up to the doorman and began to flirt. Andy watched in disbelief. The doorman didn't mind, even blushing as she tickled his face with the boa.

Andy could only shake his head. This was _not_ Della as he knew her. Not at all. And somehow he had a hard time believing even Perry would want her to pull a stunt like this.

He grabbed his radio, contacting the station. "Hi, Dennis," he greeted when a harried fellow Homicide Lieutenant answered. "What are you doing playing desk sergeant?"

"I'm not," Dennis sighed. "He stepped away for a minute and I was walking by when your call came through. What do you want, Andy?"

"I'm looking for Lieutenant Tragg," Andy said. "Is he still there?"

"Yeah, he should be. Just a minute." Dennis left and after a moment Lieutenant Tragg came on.

"Andy? What the devil's going on? It's late for you to be checking in, isn't it?"

"It's also late for Della to be kicking up her heels at nightclubs!" Andy retorted.

"Eh?" Andy could just picture Tragg's look of disbelief. "If she and Perry want to go out painting the town red, that's none of our business."

"That's just it, Lieutenant—Perry isn't with her! And she isn't acting like herself."

"Well, how's she acting?" Tragg still didn't sound that impressed or interested.

"She's wearing a blonde wig and flirting with every man she encounters. She . . ." Andy flamed red. "She even kissed _me._ "

"What?! Andy!"

"I didn't encourage her!" Andy exclaimed. "And she's even insisting she isn't really Della Street!"

"What if she isn't?" Tragg countered. "You know how you and Amory Fallon could be twins."

Andy sighed. "Alright, you have a point," he conceded.

"Did she give you any other name?"

"No, she didn't." Andy frowned. "And there's something else about her, Lieutenant. She's wearing an emerald necklace. It's something to see; there must be five or six large emerald pendants all in a row."

"Andy, are you sure?" Suddenly Tragg sounded interested.

Andy was baffled. "Yes. Why?"

"Sergeant Brice was telling me about the case he and Lieutenant Drumm are working on. It has something to do with an emerald necklace. But it's supposed to be locked up in Perry's safe!"

"Then that woman _has_ to be Della, if that's the same necklace!" Andy cried. "She must have taken it out of the safe and decided to wear it! But . . . why is she acting like . . . like _that?_ She's the farthest thing from a _femme fatale_. I don't like seeing her act like one."

". . . Maybe we'd better look into this," Tragg said slowly. "I'll go find Brice and ask him to describe the necklace. You keep watching Della or whoever that woman is."

"And if Brice says the necklace looks like that?"

Tragg was silent for another moment. "Then we'd better call Perry."

xxxx

Perry wasn't unused to being awakened at the most ungodly hours of the night, but that still didn't mean he liked it. He grimaced as the ringing of the telephone dragged him out of the world of sleep and into the reality of his darkened bedroom. He groped for the receiver, squinting as he tried to keep hold of some level of drowsiness. "Hello?"

"Hello, Perry," said Lieutenant Tragg. "I'm afraid I have some strange news for you."

"Strange news? How?" Perry woke up more. Of all people to often call him in the middle of the night, Tragg was not at the top of that list.

"Andy saw a flirtatious woman out nightclubbing. He thinks it's Della. She denies it, but she's wearing an emerald necklace that Sergeant Brice says matches the description of one you're holding in your safe."

Perry's stomach dropped. "That's impossible!" he gasped. "It's still in the safe. Della wouldn't have any reason to take it!"

"I can't imagine she would either, Perry, but I thought you'd like to know."

"Is Andy still following her?" Perry asked.

"Yeah. She's in some nightclub with a 1940s theme, Play It Again, Sam or something like that. If I were you, I'd check the safe."

"And then what would you do, Lieutenant?" Perry asked. He was already throwing back the covers to get out of bed.

"I'd get on over to the Play It Again, Sam Club," Tragg replied gravely.

xxxx

Perry's mind and heart were in turmoil as he drove to the Brent building. They had just started hoping Della's problem was contained at Manzana Valley Prep School. Had that hope been premature? Was it the necklace after all? Or had Ellena really been at the school and had left with Della instead of staying behind when Della left? It seemed too much of a coincidence that someone looking like Della would be wandering around with an emerald necklace if it _wasn't_ Della.

He parked out front instead of going around to the parking garage. As one of the tenants, he had a key to one of the doors, which he quickly used to slip inside. Soon he was on the elevator, going up to the ninth floor. It was a journey he made almost every day. Many times he spent the elevator rides deep in thought about cases and how to prove his clients innocent. But even during the grimmest of those cases, he hadn't felt as torn as he did now.

He had tried calling Della on the way over, of course. She hadn't answered. That only further pointed to what seemed to be the truth, a truth that he was still desperately fighting against.

The elevator doors opened and he strode out, hastening to suite 904. In less than a minute he had unlocked and opened the doors and was arriving in the law library.

His heart gathered speed as he turned the dial on the safe, working its combination until the last tumbler fell into place and the door could be opened. The sack was still inside, just as it had been left. He reached for it, taking it out and pulling the necklace out from the bottom.

So it was still there. He stared at it, not sure what to make of the development. That meant that it wasn't Della in the nightclub, didn't it? It was all a bizarre coincidence?

One of the earrings had come out with the necklace. He plucked it off and held it up, studying it. Then he lifted the necklace again. The earring seemed to have a greater shine than the necklace. Was there any significance in that fact?

Suddenly an idea occurred to him—a horrible, terrible idea, but one that made sense with the evidence. He shoved the jewelry back into the sack, barely remembering to close the safe behind him as he rushed to the door. He had to get to that nightclub.

xxxx

Perry was in luck; when he pulled up at the Play It Again, Sam Club, Andy was standing outside and leaning on the roof of his car. Sergeant Brice, who had arrived at some earlier point, was standing next to him. Both men were tense, watching the front doors like a pair of hawks.

Perry hurried over to them. "She's still inside?"

They both jumped. "Perry!" Andy exclaimed. "Yes, as far as we can tell, she's still in there."

"What's the deal with the necklace, Perry?" Brice asked in concern.

Perry heaved a sigh. "I'm not completely sure, but I have the terrible feeling that the real necklace was replaced with a copy. I have to get into that nightclub and talk to this woman." He still couldn't quite bring herself to say _Della._ Not yet, not without seeing her for himself.

"Alright," Andy said, looking relieved to not have to keep standing there. "We'll all go in."

Perry didn't protest. He could see the confusion and concern in the two policemen's eyes. They cared about Della too.

The doorman quickly let the group in when Andy showed his badge. He pleaded, however, for them to not cause a commotion if at all possible. He remembered Sergeant Brice from a recent strange case of Steve's; the club was still suffering a bit from bad publicity generated by the outcome of that case. The group promised they would do their best not to start an uproar, but they couldn't promise what the woman might do.

A singer was belting a big band standard when they entered the main room. Many people were up and dancing, including the woman in question. Andy weaved around tables, leading the others closer and closer until they could clearly see her features. "Well, Perry?" he asked gravely.

Perry could only stare. "Aside from the wig, she certainly _looks_ like Della." He swallowed hard. "And she's wearing the necklace." He reached into the bag, taking out the one he still had.

Brice came over to examine it. "I think these are paste, alright," he said worriedly. "But does that mean those stories Gene Torg and Pearl Chute told were right? An evil spirit is haunting the real necklace?"

"Let's find out," said Perry. Loudly he called, "Ellena!"

The woman jumped a mile and turned. "What the . . . ?" She blanched when she saw Perry, realizing that she had just plunged into a trap. Her first instinct was to turn and run, but Andy reached her first and grabbed her arm.

"I'd think twice about running," he said. "So your name is Ellena, then, and not Della?"

She wrenched her arm away. "That's right," she spat.

"But you're wearing the necklace from my office," Perry said as he stepped forward. "What did you do, have a paste copy made so that no one could sense your presence in the real one?"

Ellena gave him a Look, but her eyes clearly displayed her fear. "Are you trying to say maybe you believe in spirits and hauntings and possession?" she drawled.

"I've been forced to believe that spirits are real and possession can and does happen," Perry replied. "And I don't appreciate you taking over my secretary's body. What have you done with her?!"

"Nothing," Ellena insisted. "I just waited till she was asleep and all. Then I can go have fun and she doesn't know a thing about it!"

"Odd that she doesn't wake up with all the commotion," Perry remarked.

"I don't let her." Ellena stuck her nose in the air. "She doesn't wake up until I say she can. And uh, you know, people are starting to turn and look."

Andy immediately became self-conscious. The last thing he wanted was for the entire patronage of the nightclub to know that they were accusing this woman of being an evil spirit possessing someone's body. "Let's take this outside," he said.

Realizing that she had the upper hand in this situation, Ellena sneered at him. "Why? You're not ready to shout to the world what you think is going on?"

Andy flushed. "You know as well as I do that it isn't something that would be easily believed!"

"Which puts you boys in a spot," Ellena grinned and winked. "Meanwhile, if I make a fuss, I can get everybody in this joint to come rushin' to my aid. I can make them think that you're the bad guys."

Perry's patience had just about unraveled. "Alright, you've made your point. I want to talk to Della now."

Ellena scoffed. "You think I'll just let her take over again? I'm not done having fun yet."

"You're done using Della's body to have your fun!" Perry rumbled over the jazz band on the stage.

"You'll have to take the necklace off of me," Ellena taunted, backing up, "and I'll make sure you never get the chance to get that close."

She backed right into Sergeant Brice, who immediately went for the clasp. "You're right that _he_ probably won't," he said calmly.

She yelped in anger, pulling away and grabbing for the necklace the same time he did. As they strained in opposite directions, the chain snapped in half.

Stunned, Brice drew back the piece he was holding. "Della?" he ventured slowly, hopefully.

Ellena sneered back at him. "Nope. As long as there's any piece of necklace with Della at all, I've got her." And with that she turned, dashing into the crowd.

Perry broke into a run, pushing past baffled and annoyed dancers as he struggled to reach her again. "Della!" he screamed, praying that his voice would somehow get through. There was no answer, and as Andy and Brice chased after Perry, they found with sinking hearts that Ellena was nowhere to be seen.

"There's an exit over here," Brice noticed, turning to the right. He hurried through the door, the others following him. The street outside was empty.

"How could she have gotten away that fast?" Perry berated. "If she came in a cab, then there wasn't a car waiting."

"What if there was?" Andy suggested after a moment. "Sergeant Brice told me about the convoluted case you're working on. Maybe, assuming they're working together, one of these people out to get Dr. Stuart came here to pick Della . . . Ellena . . . _her_ up." He shook his head. It was difficult to think of that woman as Della. Yet when he knew it actually was her, at least her body, he wasn't sure how to refer to her.

"That's possible, I suppose," Perry mused. "We'd better try to find out if she placed any phone calls while she was here."

A quick check with the staff confirmed that Ellena had used the payphone in the lobby. Andy placing a call to the telephone company netted them the information that she had made two calls: one to a small import-export business and the other to Amos Berry's car shop.

"Amos Berry?" Perry said in disbelief. "I wonder if she was calling David Solomon."

"He's definitely mixed up in something," Brice said. "Lieutenant Drumm and I just aren't sure what."

"Maybe we'd better have a talk with him," Andy said. "Someone should visit that import-export office too, though."

"I'll do that, Lieutenant," Brice offered.

"You do that," Andy said with a nod.

"And I'm going to call Paul," Perry decided.

Andy winced. "I'd hate to be Paul tonight."

"Oh, I don't think he'll mind getting woke up at one in the morning when he finds out why," Perry answered. "It occurs to me that since Ellena has been going to such great lengths to establish her identity, perhaps she isn't keeping things like the boa and that wig at Della's apartment."

"You mean that maybe _Ellena_ has set up a home base of her own," Andy said carefully.

Perry nodded. "I'm going to ask Paul to find out if there are any apartments or hotel rooms in town registered to Ellena Fanchon."

"And if there are?" Andy prompted.

"Then Paul should see if she's home, of course," Perry replied with a smile.

Brice shook his head, not commenting as he went back to the squad car he had brought and got in. It seemed so unreal to see Della behaving as she had. He supposed on the one hand he would rather believe that there really was someone named Ellena Fanchon in control of Della's body instead of that Della had simply gone mad. But neither option was pleasant and he couldn't help wondering what it would take to bring back the Della he knew. Was it really as simple as getting her away from all pieces of that necklace?

xxxx

David was working late as usual, just putting the finishing touches on Joe Mannix's car when Perry and Andy strolled in. "David Solomon?" Andy asked, putting on his best businesslike tone of voice.

"Yes," David said warily, rising up from under the hood. He stiffened to see Perry.

"Aren't you working much later than car shops generally stay open?" Perry asked.

David shrugged. "I said I'd stay and get this car ready, since I've been in and out so much of the day. What's going on?"

"That's what we'd like to know," Andy retorted. "Mr. Solomon, I'm Lieutenant Anderson, L.A.P.D." He held out his badge.

"Another cop?" David did not look pleased. "I'm going to know the entire department before long. What do you think I've done now?"

"We happen to know that Ellena Fanchon called this number," Andy said. "We'd like to know why."

David went sheet-white. "Ellena? But she's . . ."

"Currently possessing my secretary's body," Perry said, his voice clipped. "She _is_ part of what's happening, Mr. Solomon, and her telephone call to here makes it look suspiciously like you're part of it as well."

"I'm trying to _help_ Dr. Stuart!" David protested. "I'm not part of any plot to harm him. And I had no idea that was Ellena on the phone. I heard it ringing, but I wasn't in a position to be able to answer it. By the time I got over to it, it had stopped ringing. The I.D. said it was from the Play It Again, Sam Club and that didn't mean anything to me. I thought it was a wrong number!"

"Didn't you try to call the number back and find out?" Andy demanded.

"Yes, I did, but no one answered," David scowled. "So I went back to the car."

"Apparently if you're not involved, Ellena wants to make you involved," Andy said. "Why would she want that?"

"How do I know what she'd want?!" David exclaimed. "She couldn't want to talk to me."

"Why not?" Perry pounced.

"She . . . she doesn't know I'm working here," David stammered. "How could she?"

"Since she's dead, how do we know _what_ she knows?" Perry retorted. "Perhaps she observed you before she possessed Miss Street."

"If she's mixed up with that necklace, then it sounds like she doesn't know anything except what's happening where it is," David said. "And it was lost for years." He turned. "Now if you'll excuse me, I almost have this finished."

"What are you going to do about Ellena?" Perry demanded.

David froze. "What?"

"You said last night that you would try to find her and reason with her," Perry reminded him. "Now we know approximately where she is. Is your word still good?"

"Yes!" David insisted. "I'll find her and I'll try to reason with her. I just can't promise it will do any good. If you know where she is right now, I'll come with you to talk to her as soon as I finish this car. I promised Amos I'd do that too."

"Unfortunately, we _don't_ know where she is right now, other than in Della's body," Perry said grimly. "We hoped that you did."

"Well, I don't," David shot back. "And you can ask that detective that's been watching me too."

"You know he's there?" Andy frowned. "He's supposed to be inconspicuous."

"I knew that Drumm would see to it that I was followed when I left the station," David said. "I knew someone was there, but I didn't see any point in making a fuss over it. I don't have anything to hide."

"Except your true identity," Perry pointed out. "You didn't begin life as David Solomon."

David shook out a greasy cloth. "And _that_ is not your business."

A piece of paper fluttered to the floor with the movement of the cloth. Andy immediately pounced on it. "You dropped this," he said. As the writing caught his eye, he stared at it in disbelief. "This is a threat!"

Stunned, Perry came to look too. "Mr. Solomon, according to this, your life is in danger," he exclaimed. "Perhaps Ellena was calling you to lead you into a trap!"

"She wouldn't," David retorted. But then he paused, really considering Perry's words. "On the other hand, I guess it's possible."

"Of course it's possible. Surely you're not going to continue trying to help Dr. Stuart now," Perry said.

David's eyes darkened. "If you talk to the detective out front, he'll tell you I was wandering around for a good portion of the evening, checking up on all the people I could think of who knew Tobin Wade. I got the threat in the afternoon. Yes, Mr. Mason, I'm going to continue trying to help Dr. Stuart."

"But why?" Andy frowned deeply. "This message proves it's madness!"

"Because Mr. Mason and his friend Mr. Drake are right," David said quietly. "I didn't help him before when I should have. I owe it to him to help him now." He turned again, walking back to the car.

Andy shook his head, staring after him. "I'm going to get this back to headquarters," he said. "I'm sure there won't be any fingerprints on it except his and mine, but I'll have to try anyway."

"You should also assign a second man to watch him, Andy," Perry said. "He's serious about helping Dr. Stuart and whoever sent that is likely serious about seeing he pays for it."

"Ohhh . . . he isn't supposed to take it upon himself to investigate anything!" Andy fumed. "He's just a common citizen."

"And there's a chance Ellena might be ordered to kill him," Perry said gravely. "That absolutely must not happen!"

Andy's eyes flickered with understanding. "Because Della would get convicted for it," he knew. "Perry, I'll do everything I can to make sure it doesn't happen. I just hope Sergeant Brice and Paul are having luck with their assignments."

"So do I, Andy," Perry said. "So do I."

xxxx

The lights were still on at the offices of the Trapezoid Solutions Import-Export Company. Sergeant Brice took a long look at the name, shook his head, and headed for the door. Steve would have a crack to make about the name if he were there. He was on his way now, but he had told Brice to go ahead and go in if he got there first.

The dark-haired man sitting and writing at the table looked up when the door opened. "Who are you?" he asked warily.

"Sergeant Brice, L.A.P.D." Brice held out his badge. "I'm investigating a telephone call that an Ellena Fanchon placed from the Play It Again, Sam Club about thirty minutes ago."

"Yeah?" Instantly the man was defensive. "What's so important about that? She was probably checking on a shipment."

"What was she shipping?" Brice asked mildly.

"I don't have to tell you that without a warrant," the man said smugly.

"I can get one," Brice replied.

"Is she suspected of smuggling something?" The man got up from the table.

"No," Brice answered. "But she's wanted for questioning by the police."

"Too bad. She's not here." The man folded his arms. "And you'll need a warrant if you want to look anyway."

"Alright." Brice turned to head for the door, then paused. "You know, you could be charged as an accessory if you're hiding her here."

"I'm not. Get out, cop." The man waited until Brice was out the door and on his radio. Then he whirled, stomping into the back room. The woman from the docks was there, along with Ellena.

"What is it?" Ellena blinked. "What's the trouble?"

" _You're_ the trouble, Ellena," the man growled. "Thanks to you, the police are onto us! There's a cop outside who's probably getting a search warrant right now."

The woman tensed. "You'd better go out the back way," she told Ellena.

"Hey, if all they want is to question me, they won't find out anything," Ellena protested. "I won't tell them! You know I want this."

"I don't want them to talk to you anyway," the man said harshly. "Get out of here and lay low until that masquerade party. That's just a day or two away."

"Where will I go?" Ellena frowned. "You won't let me go back to my apartment."

"You shouldn't have taken one out!" the man boomed. "Go board with Eliza's sister Iona for a while."

The woman stepped forward, scrawling an address on a piece of notepad paper. "Here. I'll call and tell her you're coming."

Ellena took the paper and studied it. "Well, okay," she conceded. "But just until the masquerade. I wouldn't miss that for the world." She smirked as she looked up. "That's when Aaron Stuart will finally get his."

"Yeah, yeah. Now get going!" the man ordered.

"I'm going, I'm going!" Ellena marched to the back door and opened it, shutting it quietly behind her as she slipped down the dock.

Eliza went to the window in the door to watch. "She's so caught up in wanting revenge on Dr. Stuart, but she also wants to kick up her heels and party," she frowned. "And she knows we're not really in it to avenge Wade's death. I couldn't care less about the man."

"Whatever our reasons, she's not going to spill anything," the man replied. "At least, not until Stuart is dead. And after he's dead and we have what we want from the school, we'd better make sure that Ellena can never rise from the grave again."

"How will you do that?" Eliza turned back to her partner in crime, her brow knit in confusion.

"Easy. I'll get the necklace away from the hapless woman she's possessing. Then I'll dump it in cement and sink it to the bottom of the ocean. Ellena's bound to that necklace for some reason, so she'll be out of our hair forever."

"And what about the woman she's possessing? Maybe she's heard something subconsciously."

The man's eyes narrowed. "I've thought of that. Obviously we'll have to kill her."

The woman turned away, slowly. "Obviously."


	10. Confrontation

**Chapter Ten**

Paul glanced around furtively before picking the lock on the expensive apartment and slipping inside. He shut the door behind him before turning on the light. Normally he didn't break into places, but considering this apartment was registered to Ellena Fanchon, he didn't have any compunction about it. They had to find out what had become of Della. This apartment might hold some important clues to that effect.

He had to admit, however, that in spite of the lavish, pre-furnished surroundings, there wasn't much in the way of personal touches. Even the bedroom closet was only sparsely populated—but judging from the clothes and accessories hanging in there, Ellena planned to change that over time.

Obviously she was getting money from some particular source, probably whoever she was working with on the scheme to torment Aaron Stuart. Paul had checked all of Della's accounts and had found that they had not been touched. Ellena was not dipping into Della's funds to live her extravagant lifestyle. Perry would be relieved about that.

Paul sighed to himself as he went over to the bed and looked at the notepad on the end table. He had hoped there would be some kind of message scrawled there, or at least the indentations from a message on a previous sheet of paper, but it was untouched. Maybe Ellena's cohorts didn't even know about this place. Or if they did, maybe they were smart enough not to give her messages that could be left lying around.

He left the apartment soon after, not having found anything of value. But just as he was quietly closing the door, another door opened to the right. "Ellena?" the occupant called.

Paul froze. "Uh . . . Ellena's not here," he said, not wanting to make himself look even worse by turning and running.

"I was hoping you were her coming back," the guy frowned.

Paul went over, hoping he didn't look too hopeful. "Do you see her a lot?"

"Not much," he shrugged. "That'd be kind of impossible considering she just moved in a couple of nights ago. But boy, did she enter with a bang! She immediately endeared herself to me, that's for sure. And the other guys on this floor."

Paul inwardly groaned at the thought of Ellena prancing around in Della's body and flirting with all the men. "Did she say anything about where she likes to go?"

"She goes anywhere that's fun," the guy replied. "Although the first night she got in, I heard her talking to someone on the phone who didn't seem happy about her taking out this place."

"Yeah?" Paul perked up. "Who was that? An old boyfriend?"

"He didn't sound like a boyfriend. Sounded more like a partner in some business deal. He said something about it being a risk to take a place out and she should just stick with the Street woman's place. Who's that?" He looked hopeful now. "Another fun girl?"

"Well . . . not in the same way Ellena is," Paul said carefully.

"Oh. So then Ellena told him that the place was too square and she had to have a place to really stretch her legs, at least when she wanted to go out at night. He was real mad about that too. Said she needed to keep herself completely under wraps until some masquerade ball."

"Did she ever mention his name?" Paul asked.

A shrug. "Gerry or Gerard or something like that."

Paul made a mental note of that. "So was Ellena going to lay low?"

"I doubt it!" the guy chortled. "You said yourself she's not home, so she's probably out painting the town red right now. Or maybe meeting with Gerard. He sounded like a real sour apple. I can't figure out what a girl like Ellena would see in him."

"I thought you said it was a business partnership," Paul reminded.

"Yeah, it seemed that way. But why go into business with a jerk?"

Paul shook his head. "Unfortunately, I can think of a lot of people who've done just that."

"And they probably regret it later. Right?"

"Some." Paul stepped back. "Okay, thanks for your help. Hey, you don't happen to know what kind of a business they have, do you?"

"I wish I did," was the reply. "I'd go pick her up every day when the work was over." The guy headed back into his apartment. "I hope she comes back soon."

"You and me both, Friend," Paul muttered under his breath. "Although not for the same reasons."

He headed back up the hall to the stairs. Maybe this Gerard worked at the import-export business Sergeant Brice was checking out. He'd call Steve and run the name past him. Maybe if they could pin him down, they could find out his identity and what connection he could possibly have to Aaron Stuart.

xxxx

Hamilton was not terribly used to being awakened in the middle of the night. In a case such as this, however, he couldn't say he minded that much. He wanted to know what was going on. Still, now that they knew, and there was not much more that could be done, he really wanted to try to get some sleep. He sat on the couch in his living room, watching as Perry nervously paced the length of the room and then turned to come back the other direction.

"Perry, you're making me dizzy," Hamilton objected. "And we both know this isn't helping Della."

"I know!" Perry boomed. Quieter he said, "I'm out of ideas, Hamilton. If David Solomon knows anything, he isn't saying. If the people at Trapezoid Solutions know anything, _they're_ not saying. And by now it's nearly morning and Della is still missing."

Hamilton looked down. "There isn't much of anything you can do right now, Perry. The police are watching the import-export place as well as Mr. Solomon. If Della turns up at either location, they'll see her." He looked up again. "The best thing you can do for Della right now is to go home and get some sleep."

Perry exhaled. "I know I should go and let you go back to bed, Hamilton. I shouldn't have come here at all."

"No, you should have. I needed to know. But Perry . . ." Hamilton slowly got up. "I'm worried about Della too, but I'm also worried about falling asleep in court. I don't know how you pull all-nighters so much. Maybe if we both get some rest, we'll wake up with new perspectives on the case. Or maybe by then, someone else will have found something out."

"You're right." Perry headed for the door. "But I can't help thinking I should be out there looking for Della and not stop until I find her."

"She's probably gone underground, if her partners in crime have any sense at all," Hamilton said as he followed. "And if the problem with Dr. Stuart is going to climax at this masquerade party, it's possible she'll turn up there. Probable, actually, if this Ellena has it in for Dr. Stuart so much." He looked away, uncomfortable.

Perry paused. "Hamilton, do you believe that Della is being possessed?"

Hamilton stiffened. "I certainly don't _want_ to believe it!" he objected. "A couple of years ago I wouldn't have even entertained the possibility. I would have insisted that Della needed a good, long rest somewhere." His shoulders slumped and he looked down. "Maybe that's even the truth. But . . ." He looked up again. "After everything we've been through recently, I realize it could be exactly the way you keep saying. However, if Della is really _possessed_ . . ." He spat the word out as though it tasted bad. And for Hamilton, it probably did. "Perry, do you really think getting the necklace away will help?"

"I can only hope so," Perry replied. "Ellena is supposed to be bound to the necklace, after all."

"Maybe Della is the only one who can really fight her off," Hamilton said. "And according to the way she's been acting, she doesn't even know when it's going on!"

"It seems hopeless, doesn't it." Perry gripped the doorknob. "But I'm not going to give up. If it _is_ up to Della to stop this, then I'm going to believe that she can and will."

Hamilton sighed and fell back with a relenting nod. "Then I hope you're right, Perry." _And that it happens before Dr. Stuart is dead._

The unspoken sentence hung in the air. Perry, new fear for Della building in his heart, quickly slipped out the door. "Goodnight, Hamilton."

"Goodnight," Hamilton called after him. He turned away, wishing there was more that he could do. Right now, all he could think of was to pray, and pray he would.

Della needed all the help she could get.

xxxx

The night passed without any encouraging developments. Neither Sergeant Brice nor Lieutenant Drumm was able to find any indication that Ellena had ever been at the Trapezoid Solutions offices for more than discussing a shipment, even after a search. David Solomon, after finishing Joe Mannix's car, went home to sleep. The day stretched through the morning and into the afternoon without anything unusual happening with any of the persons of interest.

At Manzana Valley Prep School, following the last gym class of the day, Pete watched as students on their free periods trouped in to start decorating for the masquerade ball the following night. In spite of the chaos at the school, they were excited about the prospect of the autumn party and began to hang crepe paper in Halloween colors with pride.

The Stuarts came in while that was going on and stood near Pete, enjoying the moment of serenity. "They're good students," Aaron said, pleased. "They deserve tomorrow evening as a fun escape."

"Yes, but Aaron, I know you remember what that horrible voice said yesterday," Marian objected. "They're going to come after you at the ball!"

"It may even be an empty threat, for all we know," Aaron retorted. "For the last time, Marian, I'm not going to cancel this just because of that! Anyway, Miss Street has disappeared. It's just possible she'll come to the party. That's what Perry is hoping."

"Why would she come to the party?" Marian retorted. "There's something that Perry hasn't told us. I know it!"

Aaron looked to Pete, who seemed uncomfortable. "Did he tell _you_ what it is?" he asked.

"Well . . ." Pete shifted. "No, not exactly. . . ." It wasn't a lie; it had been Paul who had told Pete to watch out for Ellena's presence at the school and this morning had called to tell him the latest developments about Della.

"This is the second time Miss Street has vanished this week!" Aaron exclaimed. "The first time, it happened right after she said all those bizarre things. I'd really like to know what's going _on_ around here!"

"Dr. Stuart, if Mr. Mason hasn't told you something, I'm sure he thinks it's for your own good," Pete said at last.

"I'm sure he does too, but that doesn't mean it is," Aaron shot back.

Pete really did not want to be the one to introduce the supernatural angle to Aaron! "I think you should take it up with Mr. Mason," he said carefully.

"And he'll probably still feel that we shouldn't know," Aaron retorted. "If anyone's going to tell us, it should be you, Mr. Kelton."

Pete sighed heavily. "To be honest, Dr. Stuart, I really don't know how to," he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What do you mean 'you don't know how to'?" Aaron frowned. "If it's _that_ complicated, we need to know all the more!"

Pete looked back and forth between the worried couple. At last he sighed again, moving to step away from them. "Maybe I can call Mr. Drake and ask him what he thinks is advisable. I'm really working under him, after all; he's the one who was hired by Mr. Mason."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake," Aaron grumped as Pete took out his phone.

Marian sighed too. "I guess it's understandable that he's worried about doing anything that might get him in trouble with the licensing board," she said. "But it's still upsetting!" She jumped a mile as something clattered to the floor.

"Sorry, Mrs. S.," a student called. "I dropped the box of crepe paper pumpkins."

"Nevermind," Aaron called back with a dismissive wave.

Marian looked to him with worried eyes. "Aaron, what if Miss Street is missing this time because she was kidnapped?" she exclaimed. "Maybe that's why Perry doesn't want to tell us."

"Who would kidnap her?" Aaron scoffed.

"Whoever's after you!" Marian insisted. "It could fit. Maybe they're trying to get Perry off the case by threatening Miss Street's life!"

Aaron was troubled. He had to admit, it _did_ sound possible. "But Perry wouldn't give in," he said helplessly. "He'd be all the more determined to not let them win if they have Miss Street."

Pete hung up and came back over to them. "Mr. Drake gave me the go-ahead," he reported. "Mr. Mason thinks that with everything probably about to come together tomorrow evening at the party, you should know what seems to be going on. In fact, he's on his way here right now to talk to you both, but if you don't want to wait for him, I'll try to tell you."

"Good. Then tell us!" Aaron implored.

"One thing, though," Pete said awkwardly. "I think we should talk in your office."

Aaron sighed but nodded. "We shouldn't run the risk of the students overhearing," he agreed. "Alright, let's go." He headed out of the room.

Marian lingered, looking to Pete as if to make sure he was coming before she turned to follow her husband.

And as Pete trailed after them, none of them noticed Janet Gwynne standing near enough to have overheard part of their conversation. She frowned to herself, gripping her class materials as she turned away.

xxxx

Della really didn't know what was going on. Some time ago she had awakened but had been unable to make her body move. She could, however, see that her body was indeed moving, eating, even talking and laughing. But she was not a part of it.

"What's going on?!" she cried as loudly as she could. "What's happened to me?!"

For a long time there was never any answer, nor even any acknowledgment that she had spoken. But at last, as she pounded and screamed from her invisible prison, a Southern voice spoke.

"You know, you're really getting on my nerves. I thought I'd put you to sleep for a good, long while."

Della fell back, stunned and confused. "Ellena?" she ventured. She knew the voice, and for some reason _Ellena_ seemed like the name that went with it. _Ellena . . . the dead girl._

"That's right, Honey. You know, I've gotta say, it's been awfully fun taking your body for a ride these last few days."

"W-what?" Della swallowed hard. "You really _have_ possessed me? But the necklace . . ."

"Don't you remember?" Ellena jeered. "You replaced the real one with a paste copy I had made up. That's why your little voodoo friends couldn't figure anything out."

"I don't remember that," Della retorted, a bit of her fire returning. "Why would I do that?"

"I just gave you a few little suggestions to carry out when I wasn't in full control of you," Ellena replied. "Kind of like hypnosis."

"You can't hypnotize someone to do something they wouldn't do on their own!" Della insisted.

"And it sure was interesting figuring out how to get you to do those things," Ellena giggled. "I just had to tell you enough times that it was gonna help your precious Perry Mason and his client. Your body kind of acted automatically those times. You just kind of blanked out. All the better . . . for me!"

"I remember something now," Della said angrily, struggling against the seemingly unbreakable wall all around her. "I tried to help you! I wanted to help you find out who murdered you and you told me to put on the necklace. You said I'd see what you saw!"

"And you did, didn't you?" Ellena grinned. "Just not the way you expected."

"You took advantage of me!" Della cried. "Now you're using my body for some cruel purpose!"

"I'm using it to have my revenge on Aaron Stuart," Ellena sneered. "Anything my friends or me do to him, he deserves."

"Why?!" Della wailed. "Why does Tobin Wade mean so much to you? Dr. Stuart didn't even have anything to do with what happened to him!"

"That's what everyone says," Ellena said bitterly. "But I don't believe it. You wanna know why?"

"Yes!" Della snapped.

"I'm not really bound to the necklace," Ellena said. "Well, not exactly. I can travel around in the afterlife, but if I wanna come back to the mortal world, I have to be where the necklace is. So that gets boring and I go off wandering through the afterlife sometimes. I'm always looking for Tobin. But I never find him!"

"You probably aren't looking in the right places," Della frowned. As angry as she was, she was still too much of a lady to say what she really meant.

Ellena knew anyway. "You mean like Hell?" Her hands went to her hips. "He wouldn't be down there. And I'm not saying that just because I don't think he was rotten enough for it, which he wasn't. I found my way to the gates of Hell once and I asked somebody. They said he hadn't been that way."

Della felt a shiver at the thought of actually visiting such a horrible place. "I still don't understand what Dr. Stuart has to do with this," she said.

"Okay. So I've also been through the middle place. You know, limbo, the Netherworld, whatever. And he's not there, either. And I also checked in with someone from Heaven. So you know what that leaves?" Ellena rushed on. "Tobin's stuck somewhere on the mortal plane. He's a wandering spirit bound to Earth because of the way his life turned out. And that means that Dr. Stuart upset him so bad he can't move on."

Della frowned. "It could mean instead that he's so upset at how he treated Dr. Stuart that he can't move on," she objected.

"You've got an answer for everything, don't you?" Ellena snapped.

"Yes," Della said without missing a beat. "And here's something else you should think about, Ellena. If Tobin Wade is stranded on the mortal plane because of anything to do with Dr. Stuart, why isn't he where Dr. Stuart is? He should be at the school or at Dr. Stuart's house."

"He's up at his cabin!" Ellena insisted. "That's why there's all that ghost activity up there!"

Della blinked in surprise. "You mean your people aren't responsible for what's going on up there?"

"No!" Ellena stamped her foot. "We're only focusing on Manzana Valley Prep School."

Della rocked back, mulling over this surprising development. "Are you sure?" she asked at last. "Maybe that's what your allies have told you. They could be lying to you."

"They wouldn't lie to me," Ellena spat. "We were friends long before I ever kicked the bucket. Sure, they're mercenary and all, and they don't really care about Tobin, but they care about me! We're all in this together."

Della wasn't as sure, but she certainly knew that she didn't have the entire picture. "Alright, Ellena," she said now. "If you're so sure Tobin Wade is at his cabin, why haven't you gone there?"

"I have!" Ellena retorted. "You don't know because you were sleeping at the time, but I went two nights ago." She blinked angrily, not wanting the collecting tears in her eyes to fall. "I stood there and called and called to him and begged him to come out and talk to me, but he didn't!"

"Maybe he really isn't there," Della suggested.

"Then where is he?!" Ellena all but screamed. "He isn't anywhere else! The cabin's the last possible place he could be!" She stood, seething, her hands clenching into fists as she stared Della down.

Della realized she honestly wasn't sure what to say. ". . . What are you going to do, Ellena?" she asked, deciding a change of subject was in order.

"I'm going to see that Aaron Stuart pays for what he did," Ellena snarled.

"But will that help Tobin?" Della prodded.

"Maybe!" Ellena shot back. "I can't think of anything else that might!" She turned with a whirl, her short blonde hair flying with the motion. "And I've had just about enough of you for now. Just keep quiet and keep out of my way until after the party!"

"I can't do that," Della protested, staring at the angry and hurting and departing woman. "Ellena, wait. Ellena, come back!" Again she pounded on the barrier. "Ellena, I can't let you hurt Dr. Stuart! Ellena!"

No amount of banging either brought Ellena back or shattered the wall. At last Della slumped back, sickened and near the point of panic. All she could assume was that the barrier was a product of Ellena's strong will and determination to control Della's body. And it didn't look like anything would shatter that. How would she ever get free?

Sinking in desperation to the floor of her mind, Della began to pray.

xxxx

David Solomon swore under his breath as he struggled with a stubbornly tight bolt. No matter how hard he fought with his wrench, the rusted bolt fought right back. Finally, cursing again, he straightened and only barely kept himself from pitching the wrench in a fit of frustration and anger.

Della was still missing. And according to Perry, she was possessed by Ellena's spirit. He had tried several times to find her, without success. Now it seemed to him, as it did to everyone else, that there was not much that could be done except to wait for the masquerade ball tomorrow night. Ellena would not miss that, not if her comrades were planning to end it for Aaron there.

Obviously he was going to have to go. He could not stay away from the event that could make or break the rest of Aaron's life.

He heaved a deep sigh, running a hand into his dark curls. Really, he had known this day would come. As soon as the strange threats against Aaron had started, he had realized his masquerade would be stripped away before long, because he could not stand by and watch Aaron be driven into madness or killed because of something he had not had any part in.

Well, it was a masquerade ball, anyway. He would go in costume and try to remain inconspicuous for as long as he possibly could. Indefinitely, if at all possible. All he had to do was stop several crazed nuts from doing away with Aaron. He wouldn't be alone in his quest, either. How hard could it be?

Plenty so, he knew, especially with Ellena involved.

"Hey!"

He jumped a mile at Amos Berry's voice. "I'm getting back to it," he said, not even turning around. "This stupid bolt just has me stumped for the moment."

"You've been getting more and more distracted lately," Amos frowned. "There _is_ something going on in your life. I know it!"

David sighed in further frustration. "Yes, you know it," he said. "You're right. But after tomorrow, one way or the other, it should all be over."

"Eh?" Amos squinted at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"There won't be any more distractions," David elaborated.

"That'll be the day," Amos grumped. "I'm starting to think there will _always_ be more distractions!"

"There won't be," David insisted. Gripping the wrench, he turned back to face the battle of the bolt.

What he wasn't as sure of was whether or not _he_ would be around at all after tomorrow night.


	11. Reaper

**Chapter Eleven**

Everyone was tense as the next day dawned.

Nothing new had happened at Trapezoid Solutions. Gerard, as Paul had learned from Steve, was the general manager of the business. And he continued to insist that he had no contact with Ellena Fanchon other than business-related matters. Steve informing him that there was a witness who had heard him conversing with Ellena via a telephone on Speaker had not deterred him. Sergeant Brice informing him that Ellena was dead had not deterred him. He had scoffed at the police bringing that up, but since he had acknowledged that he had talked to Ellena for even business reasons, they were sure they had him. He had never denied that she was dead; he had only expressed mocking at the police for daring to mention it. Still, without proof they could do little more than watch and wait.

Aaron had not taken the news of Della's possession well. Pete had been afraid of that. Once Perry had arrived at Manzana Valley, he had explained in more detail and told why he was sadly certain of Della's fate. By the end of the evening, Aaron and Marian had both been shaken to the core but had been willing to accept that Perry knew what he was talking about. They were both fearful of what the morning would bring, especially now that they knew the supernatural did seem to be involved.

Upon returning home, Perry had barely got any sleep, if any at all. Every little while he tried Della's home phone and her cellphone and continued to not have any luck with either. As he stumbled out of bed in the morning, a complete wreck, he decided he had better try to work on his costume for the masquerade ball that night. Whatever was going to happen would happen there. And he was certain Della would be there.

Many of the others were planning to be present as well. Steve and Brice were going, of course, both because of the threat to Aaron's life and the possibility that they would find out the truth about the death in Topanga Canyon.

Hamilton, too, was going, mainly due to worry over Della's state. Since no crime had been proved regarding the unfortunate body, the case had not been brought before the district attorney's office yet. But what was happening to Della was a huge concern of his as her friend.

Even Gene Torg and Pearl Chute were considering getting into the act. When Pearl stopped by Gene's apartment that morning with the newspaper, he was pacing the floor like a caged animal. She wasn't sure whether to be amused or sympathetic.

"Alright, Gene, what's wrong?" she greeted at last, letting the paper drop to the end table.

Gene turned to face her. "They still don't know what happened to that guy in the canyon!" he exclaimed. "We could be pulled in by the cops again at any time!"

"So? We have Perry Mason on our side. That has to count for something." Pearl regarded her long-time friend with entertainment. "Relax, Gene. Nothing's going to happen to us."

"You can't know that for sure!" Gene retorted. "What if that guy was even killed because he gave the jewelry to me?"

"Now you're reaching. It seems to me that anyone would be grateful to unload that stuff." Pearl rested her hands on Gene's shoulders.

"Only if they knew what was wrong with it," Gene returned. "If they didn't believe all the supernatural jazz, they'd think someone was an idiot to try to get rid of such an emerald mine."

"So what do you think we should do about it?" Pearl asked.

"That masquerade's tonight, isn't it?" Gene glanced at the newspaper. "Maybe we should go and keep an eye on things."

"And do what? Try to keep that Aaron Stuart character from getting killed?" Pearl retorted. "That's out of our line, Gene. Forget about it."

"I can't. I just keep thinking that if we're implicated, we'll probably go to jail . . . or worse. I don't want that to happen!" Gene was restless.

"That might happen all the more if we're on the scene, Sweet," Pearl pointed out.

"But if we could just _stop_ something from happening," Gene protested. "That's all I want."

"And we could get killed in the process," said Pearl. "Is it worth that?"

Gene cringed. "Well, no. Still, maybe if we show up in costumes, we can keep an eye on things without being spotted."

"What would you even dress up as?" Pearl wondered.

"I don't know," Gene sighed. "Something I could easily hide behind. Why don't we go to a costume shop and just look around, see what we can find?"

Deciding to humor him, she finally nodded. "Alright, Gene. We'll do that much."

xxxx

The Manzana Valley Prep School's autumn masquerade ball was big news in the county. While it was mainly for the students, they welcomed anyone who wanted to drop in for a fun evening. It was a celebration of both the harvest season and Halloween, as well as a way to show off the new school, and Manzana County was excited all around. As evening approached, people of all ages began to ready themselves to join the ball.

The strange threats against Aaron Stuart were becoming more widely publicized, to Aaron's chagrin. But while some mothers were threatening to pull their children out of the school, fearing for their safety, amateur detectives and paranormal investigators were intrigued. They wanted a chance to see both the school and the man up close and personal and to try to determine what was really happening at Manzana Valley Prep. Aaron didn't like that any more than he liked the bizarre and sometimes rude parents he sometimes had to deal with.

He spotted Perry as soon as the big man got out of the car and headed towards the school. Relieved, Aaron hurried towards him. "Perry!" He held out a hand. "It's so good to see you. Have you heard anything from Della?"

"No, I haven't," Perry frowned, gripping Aaron's hand. Perry had chosen to dress as an English barrister, complete with long white wig. Aaron was dressed as Ichabod Crane. Thinking on the famous short story, Perry grimly found the costume fitting for the situation. He had to wonder how many Horseman equivalents were lurking on the grounds, just waiting to get Aaron alone.

"I'm sure she'll be here," Aaron said, dragging Perry back to the present. "Let's go inside and see Marian."

"She's dressed as Ichabod's love interest, I assume," said Perry as they headed for the doors.

"What? Oh. Yes," Aaron replied, clearly distracted. "She thought it would be nice to have matching costumes."

Perry smiled. "That sounds like her."

The speakers were intoning _Monster Mash_ in the background as they stepped into the gym. It was decorated with orange, red, and black crepe paper, pumpkins, and spiders, all hanging from the ceiling in unique and creative ways. Other pumpkins and spiders—and the occasional skull—were on the tables set up at one end of the room. At the other end, both students and adults were dancing on the floor.

Perry nodded in approval. "It all looks good."

Aaron was pleased. "Everyone has worked hard on this, especially the students. This is their night. You see why I didn't want to cancel or postpone, Perry."

"Yes, I see," Perry said. "I just hope that was the right decision for your safety."

"I just want to see this whole horrible mess be over and done with!" Aaron exclaimed. "Whoever's behind it will surely come out tonight." 

"They surely will," Perry frowned. "Someone will need to be with you at all times."

"They might not come out then," Aaron retorted.

"Inconspicuously with you, if you're so determined to set yourself up as bait," Perry grunted. "Where's Pete?"

"Oh, he's over there," Aaron sighed, waving a hand towards a man dressed as famous retired basketball star John Stockton.

"What's wrong?" Perry asked in surprise at Aaron's tone. "Isn't he working out for you?"

"He is, only he told me that he suspects Janet or one of the other teachers of being involved," Aaron said. "I just don't want to believe that any of them would be a part of something like this, especially Janet. She's been with us so long. . . ."

"She _did_ care about Tobin Wade," Perry quietly pointed out.

"So what does that prove?" Aaron shot back. "She was highly disillusioned when she learned the truth. As were we all."

"I realize that, but there's always that chance that deep down, she's as angry with you as Ellena is," Perry answered. "She may have been disillusioned about Wade at first, but it might not have continued."

"I won't believe that without more to go on than a handful of suspicions," Aaron insisted. "Oh, here's Marian."

"Aaron!" Marian cried as she hiked up a handful of billowing skirt and hurried over to them. "I was getting worried. And Perry!" She smiled. "I'm so glad you're here."

Perry smiled at her. "Hello, Marian. You're looking beautiful tonight."

"And you're very dashing," Marian smiled back. "I'm sure Della will pick you out in an instant when she comes."

Perry paused, suddenly troubled.

Noticing, Aaron frowned. "What's the trouble?"

"I was just thinking," Perry said. "What if _I_ can't pick _Della_ out? It will probably be Ellena in control. And I don't think she'd do something as obvious as dressing up as herself."

"Well . . ." Marian bit her lip, thinking. "What about something like a 1920s flapper?"

"That would fit," Perry agreed.

"So we'll look for someone dressed like that," Marian suggested.

"Or as anything else that suits her personality," Aaron said. He cringed, still not sure he fully believed the tale. He was willing to believe that the supernatural might exist, but he hadn't wanted to discover it this way.

Marian started, seeing something out of the corner of her eye. "Those two look like they just stepped out of New Orleans during Mardi Gras," she exclaimed. "Could that woman be her?"

Perry started too and immediately whirled. But when he saw the woman's hair peeking out from behind the elaborate Mardi Gras mask, as well as the man's dark curls, he shook his head. "To be honest, I think that's Pearl Chute and Gene Torg," he said in amazement.

"What on Earth would they be doing here?" Aaron objected.

"That's what I'd like to know," Perry replied. Weaving his way around tables, he quickly approached the colorful couple. Seeing and recognizing him, they started.

"Oh . . . Mr. Mason," the man said sheepishly. It was definitely Gene Torg. "We didn't fool you, eh?"

"Quite frankly, no," Perry retorted. He laid one hand over the other. "Why are you here? Don't you know it could be dangerous?"

"Yes!" Pearl inserted. "But he still wanted to come. He has some crazy idea that maybe we can keep Dr. Stuart from getting hurt and find out who's responsible for Selkirk's death while we're at it."

"If anyone is," Perry interjected. "It could still be proven that it was an accident."

"Do any of us really believe that?" Gene scoffed.

"I don't know what to believe," Perry returned. "There isn't enough evidence to really say one way or the other." He looked back and forth between them. "But since you're apparently determined to stay here in the thick of it all, keep an eye out for anything suspicious."

"We've already seen something a little odd," Pearl said.

Perry looked to her in surprise. "What's that?"

"There was a man skulking around here just a few minutes ago dressed like the Grim Reaper," Pearl said. "You know, black hooded robe, scythe . . ."

"He even has skeleton gloves," Gene put in.

"Well, he certainly went all in," Perry mused.

"Does that interest you?" Gene pressed.

"Yes, it does," Perry frowned. "I don't see anyone here who's wearing a hood. That person must want to conceal their identity very badly."

"Our thoughts exactly," said Pearl. "And that could definitely mean he's up to no good."

"Let me know if you see him again," Perry requested. "If you can't find me, tell Aaron Stuart or the basketball player." He nodded at each in turn.

"Okay," Gene agreed.

xxxx

The person in the Grim Reaper costume definitely didn't want his identity revealed, albeit not for the reason Perry, Pearl, and Gene imagined. He had slipped out of the gym, following two other people who had quietly exited before him. As they conversed on a staircase, he hid behind the stairs and a large potted plant to listen.

"Ellena should have been here by now," the man griped. "Didn't you say your sister told you she'd left?"

"Yes, a long time ago," the woman frowned, folding her arms. "But she was going to stop at a costume shop first. She said she wanted to see what Della Street might choose."

The man slapped his forehead, but then paused. "Wait a minute. That might actually be a good strategy. They're probably going to be looking for someone dressed like what Ellena might choose. The woman she's possessing would likely pick something completely opposite and might blend into the crowd more."

"So what do we do?" the woman retorted. "I don't know what prominent lawyers' secretaries like to dress up at Halloween as."

"Look for anything harmless and cute, maybe," the man suggested. "I've been doing some research on the Street woman and she's fairly conservative."

"Okay. So maybe Alice in Wonderland or something like that?"

"Or maybe a famous woman from history, like Susan B. Anthony."

The woman's voice lowered, but the Grim Reaper could still hear her. "You know, it's a shame we're going to have to kill her."

"But you know we have to."

"I understand that there's no telling what she knows. But that doesn't mean I like it."

The Grim Reaper had gone stiff. Now he had to get a message to Perry somehow, someway. Perry was already worried about Della's safety, but he might not have considered that they might kill her when all was said and done.

"Okay, so you don't like it. As long as you don't stop me from doing it, I don't care."

"I won't stop you. But he might!"

Realizing he had been spotted, the Grim Reaper knocked the artificial plant into his enemies' path and fled, clutching the scythe. Behind him, he could hear the man swearing a blue streak.

"So now someone's overheard us! We'll have to kill him too!"

"Maybe he didn't even hear enough to know what we were talking about," the woman suggested. "He could have thought we were rehearsing some skit for the ball."

"The way he knocked this thing over and ran, do you really believe that?" the man snarled. "He knows we're planning a murder! Now he'll go right to someone in there and tell them! Probably Mason."

"Okay." The woman was undaunted. "So we'll change costumes and sneak back in. He'll probably describe what we were wearing, but if we're not wearing that any longer, they'll have a hard time finding us."

". . . That's a good idea." The man sounded somewhat surprised. Scowling, he added, "And the Reaper will probably have the same one. We don't know who was under that robe. He could change into anything and we wouldn't know it was him."

"Nevermind that. The most important thing is for us not to be caught. You'll have to let him go, at least for now." The woman tugged on his arm. "Let's find something to wear in the school's theatrical department."

Nodding, the man allowed himself to be led in that direction.

Just inside the doorway, close enough to hear the end of their conversation, the Reaper frowned to himself. They were right; he would have to change costumes. But he wouldn't dare go into the drama department to find another one. Anyway, right now he had to get that message to Perry.

Spotting him at the refreshment table, the Reaper slipped along the wall in the shadows before coming out near the punch. "Mr. Mason," he said quietly.

Perry frowned and started to turn. "You!" he exclaimed, seeing the classic Halloween get-up.

"I can't tell you who I am and that's not important anyway," the Reaper said. "But you need to know that Ellena Fanchon's cohorts are here and they plan to kill Della Street at some point tonight."

"What?!" Perry spun around the rest of the way. "How do you know this?!"

"I overheard them talking." The Reaper paused. "I recognized at least one of their voices."

"Who?" Perry demanded, setting the cup of punch down. By now several others nearby had turned to look at the spectacle.

"The woman," the Reaper replied. "Her name is Carola Madsen. She was a friend of Ellena's and an acquaintance of Tobin Wade's."

Perry only took a moment to absorb that information. "You're David Solomon, aren't you?" he realized.

"It's not important who I am!" the Reaper snapped. "The only important thing is who the woman is. And the fact that she and her friend are going to get new costumes in the drama department. If someone hurries there, maybe they can be caught now!"

Perry was rushing for the door in the next instant. "Pete!" he yelled across the gym.

Pete jumped a mile, but quickly turned to hurry after Perry. "What is it?"

"The drama department," Perry barked. "Now!"

The Reaper watched them go. Hopefully those two could be caught, but he had a bad feeling they would still get away. Or maybe Perry and Pete would get hurt trying to catch them. He would go with them, but he felt the need to stay here now and watch over Aaron. Ellena was still loose and could turn up at any time. He had to be ready. He couldn't bother with changing his costume, as he had intended moments before.

He sighed, gripping the scythe as he slowly faded back into the shadows of the room. He wished he hadn't been caught. In the past he had been so stealthy at what he did. But he had eventually been caught then too, setting off a chain of events that still haunted him tonight.

"Excuse me."

He looked up with an alarmed start. Aaron was standing right in front of him, seeming puzzled.

". . . What do you want?" the Reaper asked, hoping that he was keeping his voice muffled enough to obscure identification.

"I just wondered what you said that got Mr. Mason and Mr. Kelton out of here in such a rush," Aaron frowned. "And who you are."

"Everyone is anonymous at a masquerade ball, unless they choose not to wear a mask," the Reaper replied. "As for what I said, I warned them about a couple of your enemies. If you know what's good for you and for your wife, you'll stay in here."

Aaron stared at him now. "And are you warning me or threatening me? How do you know about my enemies?!"

"I overheard them. They'll be out for my blood if they can find me. I'm warning you, Dr. Stuart." The Reaper stepped away, keeping himself close to the wall. In a moment several students danced in front of him, allowing him the chance to slip into a more inconspicuous spot.

Aaron, seeing he had vanished, still stared at the place where he had been seconds earlier. Then, worried for Marian, he quickly looked around for her instead.

In his heart he prayed no one would be harmed tonight.

xxxx

Perry and Pete kept to the shadows, moving as quietly as possible towards the drama department. "They might already be gone when we get there," Pete said low.

"That's possible," Perry nodded. "Probable, in fact. But I just realized something. The Grim Reaper I was talking to said the woman's name is Carola Madsen."

"Madsen?" Pete blinked. "The same name as the current owner of Tobin Wade's cabin!"

"And somehow I don't think that's a coincidence," Perry said. "I'm going to have to get a message to Steve or Sergeant Brice. You don't know if they're here yet, do you?"

"No, I don't," Pete frowned. "Do you think they'd dress up?"

"If they want to blend in, they would," Perry said. "Wait a minute!" He held up his hands to stop Pete. "Here's the drama room. Someone's in there; I can hear them."

Pete reached for a small gun he had concealed in a deep pocket. "Let's move in then," he said. "Carefully and quietly."

Perry followed him in and they both followed the sounds of someone rummaging through a clothing rack and pushing hangers aside. As they drew closer, however, the sounds ceased.

"Someone's in here," a man hissed.

"Then just grab anything and let's go!" a woman retorted. "This is no time to be picky."

Pete dashed out, gun bared. "Stop!" he yelled. "I've got a gun!"

The man swore, responding by pushing the wheeled hanger rack right at him. Pete gasped, leaping out of the way. Perry also jumped aside. At the same moment he did, a gun went off and a man yelped in pain. "My arm!"

Perry struggled to push his way past the rack of clothes. "Pete?"

Pete was sprawled on top of a crate, the smoking gun clutched in his hand. "I hit him," he realized.

"But not seriously," Perry frowned. "There's two sets of footsteps running out the back door."

Pete slowly got to his feet. "Well, the fact that one of them's wounded will surely change their plans now," he said.

"That's true," Perry agreed. "And I wish and hope that change would be good. But I'm not at all sure it will be."

Pete had to admit, the way this case was going, he wasn't sure either. "So what's the plan?"

"I'm going back to the gymnasium and try to find Steve or Brice," Perry said. "Why don't you look around outside? If I see Paul, I'll send him to join you."

"Alright." Pete headed for the exit onto the grounds. "Be careful."

"The same to you." Perry pushed the clothing rack out of his way before going to the door they had entered through. He was deeply troubled.

Already the ball was becoming dangerous. Who knew what would happen before the night was out . . . and how in the thick of it Della would be.


	12. Revelation

**Chapter Twelve**

Steve sighed to himself, placing a hand in his pocket as he and Sergeant Brice stood near the entrance to the gymnasium and surveyed the gathering crowd. "Well," he mused, "it looks like this party is a hit."

"I don't see Perry," Brice said in concern. "There's Dr. Stuart over near that door looking at some kind of note."

"I don't see Paul's man, either," Steve frowned. "It's Pete Kelton, isn't it?"

"That's right," Brice nodded. "He kind of looks like Lieutenant Anderson's friend Officer Otto Norden."

"I remember." Steve had a trace of a wan smile on his features. With Otto long dead and the emotional scars still deep, it had really given poor Andy a shock the first time he had seen Pete.

"Well," Brice said now, "maybe we should split up, Lieutenant. I'll try to find Perry and Della."

"Alright," Steve agreed, already distracted. "I'll stay here and keep an eye on Dr. Stuart. And I'll wait for Paul to show up. I thought he'd be here by now."

"Why didn't he come with Perry?" Brice wondered.

"Oh, knowing Perry, he had some other job for Paul to do," Steve said. "Maybe it had something to do with that Gerard character. But I don't think we're going to find out much of anything about him beyond what we already know."

"Maybe not," Brice sighed. He paused. "Lieutenant? It's going to look kind of strange that we're not in costume."

Steve smirked slightly. "Say that we came as Sergeant Joe Friday and Officer Frank Smith. Unless of course you don't want to go down in rank."

Brice had to laugh. "Okay, Lieutenant. I'll see you later." He hurried into the crowd, vanishing between a zombie and a mummy.

Shaking his head, Steve turned away and moved to find a way to weave around the room to Aaron's location. When he arrived, however, no one was there. Looking through the door revealed an empty corridor.

Steve swore under his breath. Surely Aaron wouldn't have left the room, would he?

xxxx

Brice was deep into the throngs of celebrating students and faculty when he caught sight of what he knew was a familiar face. "Della?!" he called, squeezing past a witch and a Batman to get over to her.

Della, or rather Ellena, looked up. She was wearing a blue-and-white cleaning woman costume and holding a brown feather duster as a prop. She sneered at Brice as he came closer. "Sorry, Della's still checked out."

"I don't believe that," Brice retorted. "I know she'd fight you with everything she has."

"Ah yes, the power of Perry Mason's little clean-up woman." Ellena twirled on her heels. "What do you think?"

"I think you're making fun of her," Brice said in disgust.

"Maybe I just think she could have a much more profitable life than in working all odd hours for some fat old attorney," Ellena replied. "I guess she must have a thing for heavy people or something, doesn't she?" She poked him in the chest. "If you're her friend too."

Brice stared at her, momentarily stunned. But he quickly recovered and grabbed her upper arms. "Della, I want to speak to you," he commanded. "Keep fighting Ellena, Della. I know you can do it. And I don't think the necklace is the only part of the equation here. I'm sure that to get rid of Ellena, a lot depends on you."

Ellena tore away, regarding him in repulsion and disgust. "Yeah, you just try to get through to her," she snapped. "She can't hear you. I won't let her."

"I don't think you have that much power over her," Brice retorted.

"We'll see." Ellena shook the feather duster at him. "I'm just waiting for the right moment to strike. Dr. Stuart won't know when it's coming. And you sure won't."

"None of us are going to let you commit murder while you're in Della's body!" Brice snapped. Though normally quiet, he was swiftly growing angry at Ellena's attitude and her blatant disregard for what would happen to Della if she went through with her twisted plans.

"Yeah, because the law don't recognize being possessed," Ellena jeered. She backed up, then turned and darted into the crowd.

Brice moved to run after her but stopped, knowing it was likely useless. The most important thing now was to make sure Aaron was protected at all times. Ellena would come for him sooner or later during the evening. And with any luck, Della would be able to wrench control away from her before she could do anything.

Nevertheless, Brice had to admit he was worried. If it really was as Ellena said and Della was never aware of the possession, was there anything she could do? She certainly hadn't seemed aware of the earlier attempts.

Pushing back his hat, he looked around for Steve and worried over where Perry was.

xxxx

In her mind, Della was sickened. "I can't believe you spoke to him like that!" she snapped, banging on the invisible barrier.

Ellena came over to her in annoyance. "I thought I put you to sleep."

"That only worked when I didn't know what was going on!" Della retorted. "Now I know and there's no way you're going to get me to go to sleep."

"Well, too bad," Ellena scoffed. "You still can't get out of there, so you're not any problem to me."

"Oh, I'll get out," Della vowed. "This is my mind and my body. You can't continue to have power over me!"

"We'll see, Honey," Ellena drawled. "And if you do manage to stop me, I guess you'll go right back to doing what you've been doing for years, working for Mason and just accepting all those long and thankless hours."

"I don't have to justify my life to you," Della snapped. Nor did she want to. Ellena wouldn't understand; it would be like casting pearls before swine.

"No, you don't," Ellena agreed. "I'd just think somebody like you could do a whole lot better for yourself. I mean, surely you could hang out with a more attractive crowd."

"Are you so shallow that you're judging people just by how much they weigh?" Della was repulsed. "I have to wonder: is the only reason you like Tobin Wade because you thought he was handsome? Are you really going through all this revenge nonsense for that?"

Ellena's eyes flickered. "No," she admitted. "I liked everything about Tobin."

"And I like everything about Perry," Della said firmly. "And Sergeant Brice. They're both wonderful people. But I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand that."

Ellena paused. "Well, I'll say this much for them: they must sure care about you. They're both here worrying about you and looking everywhere to find you."

"I wonder if Tobin Wade would have ever done that for you," Della said quietly.

An angry flash went through Ellena's eyes and she turned away. "Just don't distract me anymore."

"I won't let you kill Dr. Stuart!" Della called after her.

Ellena didn't answer.

Della stepped back, surveying the barrier as she had many times over the past hours. There _had_ to be a way to break it! Maybe, if it was Ellena's determination and will to keep it there, Della had to have just as much determination and will to break it down. And maybe she had to focus on that instead of on her panic over what Ellena was going to do. She had to get out of here fast, before Ellena had any chance to harm Dr. Stuart or someone else. Della didn't trust that Ellena wouldn't hurt anyone who got in her way. And that was absolutely not acceptable.

Standing in front of the barrier, Della tried to close out all other sounds and focus solely on it. With the party blaring all around her, that wasn't going to be easy.

xxxx

Perry hurried back into the gymnasium and nearly crashed into Steve at the door. "Whoa there, Perry," Steve exclaimed, holding out his hands to stop Perry's wild flight. "What's going on?"

"Mr. Kelton and I just chased two people out of the drama room," Perry exclaimed, barely processing that Steve wasn't wearing a costume. "A man and a woman. David Solomon heard them plotting to kill Della after Aaron is dead! They must be Ellena's cohorts."

"What?!" Steve wasn't sure which part of that statement was more shocking. "Where did they go?"

"Outside. Pete is chasing them." Perry looked around, tense. "Is Paul here yet?"

"I haven't seen him, but Sergeant Brice and I only just got here ourselves," Steve replied.

"And Della?" Perry rushed on.

"No," Steve started to say, but he trailed off as Brice ran up to them.

"I just saw Della," he said breathlessly. "She's wearing a blue-and-white maid costume."

"What?" Perry frowned. "That doesn't sound like Della."

"It isn't," Brice agreed, "but it's Ellena's idea of what she thinks is a perfect Della costume. I'm not sure where she is now; I lost her in the crowd."

"Well, at least now we know what to look for," Steve said.

"As long as she doesn't have a way to change costumes," Perry worried. "Did Ellena say anything to indicate what she's going to do?"

"Nothing we didn't already know," Brice sighed. "She's still determined to go after Dr. Stuart."

"Alright," said Steve. "The most important thing is watching over him. Unfortunately, I don't see him at the moment. We'll have to find him."

Perry started. "He isn't here?!"

"I hope he is," Brice said. "There's so many people here, it would be easy enough to lose track of him."

"And someone should go help Mr. Kelton outside, too," Steve knew. "If we could bring those jokers in, it would solve a large chunk of our problem." He looked to Perry. "And you say David Solomon is here? Why?"

"I wish I knew," Perry sighed. "Something about his intense interest in this case just doesn't add up. Particularly considering how he apparently couldn't be bothered to help Aaron before."

Steve shrugged. "Well, people change. If he's on the level, he obviously feels extremely guilty about not helping Dr. Stuart in the past." He moved to brush past Perry. "I'm going to go help Mr. Kelton. Sergeant, you're in charge here. Find Dr. Stuart!"

"Right," Brice nodded.

Perry looked to Brice pleadingly once Steve left. "What else did Ellena say?" he asked as they walked towards the crowds. "Did she say anything about how Della is?"

"You can't really trust her word," Brice said. "She insists Della isn't aware of her. And . . . well, I know that was the case before, but I hate to think it's still true now. How could Della not be aware of something?"

"I'm sure she is," Perry said. "The question is whether she can do anything about it." He slammed his fist into his palm. "We have to find her again and be able to save her!"

"I don't know how," Brice said sadly. "I'm afraid that she'll have to fight some of this battle on her own."

"I'll agree with that, but there has to be something we can do," Perry berated. "Maybe if we could distract Ellena, Della could gain the upper hand long enough to seize control." He looked around the room in worried frustration. "And where on Earth is Aaron?"

Worried, Brice scanned the room as well. They had walked to the near-center and still couldn't see him. "He knows he's in danger," he frowned. "I saw him just a few minutes ago, right before I saw Della. He wouldn't deliberately leave the room, would he?"

"I don't think so," Perry said slowly. "Even though he was hoping to draw the killers out." He stiffened. "I don't see Mrs. Stuart either. And if she disappeared, that's definitely something that could get him out of this room."

"Oh no," Brice breathed in alarm. "That note I saw him looking at . . . I wonder if that had anything to do with Mrs. Stuart. Do you have his cellphone number?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure he was even going to carry it with him during the ball." But Perry took out his phone anyway and tried to call Aaron. The phone rang with no answer.

"Okay," Brice said. "Our top priority now is to find him, his wife, and Della. I'm going out to look around in the corridors. Why don't you call Paul and find out where he is?"

"I would, only I see him now," Perry said in relief. "I'll fill him in and then I'll join you." He hurried away from Brice and again weaved around the tables to reach the man dressed as Sherlock Holmes.

"Perry!" Paul exclaimed. "Boy, have I got news for you!"

"So have I," Perry said. "Paul, the Stuarts have vanished! And Della _was_ here, but now we can't find her either."

"What?! Yipe!" Paul stared. "Do you think Ellena is making her move?"

"I think we can't ignore the possibility," Perry said. "I'm going to help Sergeant Brice search the school for them."

"I think I figured out how at least some of the phony ghost tricks are being pulled," Paul said, "but I'll tell you later. Just be careful in the halls! You might set some of them off."

"Just as long as they're relatively harmless tricks, it won't bother me," Perry said, already distracted as he headed for the door.

"They're not all harmless," Paul called after him. "And I've been up at Tobin Wade's cabin with Jane Madsen. We didn't find any trace of equipment up there. Do you think there's any chance that place really _is_ . . . well, haunted, by Wade or someone else?" He hated to even suggest it. But somehow, at a party where _Zombie Jamboree_ was blaring over the loudspeakers and mummies and vampires were dancing to the beat, it didn't seem so strange.

"I don't know, Paul," Perry called. "Right now I don't care. We have far bigger worries than an unknown disembodied spirit."

Paul cringed. "You said it—a known and unwelcome embodied spirit. Okay, I'll let you know if I see the Stuarts or Della."

"Della's wearing a blue-and-white maid costume," Perry said. "Ellena's twisted sense of humor, according to Sergeant Brice. The Stuarts are dressed as Ichabod Crane and his love interest. I don't recall her name. Oh, and Paul, also be on the lookout for a Grim Reaper."

"Huh? _Why?_ " Paul exclaimed.

"He's David Solomon," Perry answered while dashing out the door.

Paul stared after him. "David Solomon?!" he echoed in bewilderment.

But Perry didn't respond and there was no Grim Reaper in the gymnasium. Paul blew out his breath in frustration. "Of course," he muttered. "It _had_ to be David Solomon."

xxxx

Aaron knew it was unwise to leave the gymnasium, especially by himself. But the infamous note he had received courtesy of the Grim Reaper had brought him out into the corridor. He wasn't sure why the Reaper had silently handed him the note instead of talking to him like before, but he didn't care. All that mattered to him were its contents, scrawled in childish capital letters.

YOUR WIFE IS WITH US. COME TO THE UPSTAIRS LANDING,

BY YOURSELF, BY WAY OF THE BACK HALLWAY, IF YOU

DON'T WANT US TO KILL HER INSTEAD OF YOU.

Naturally he would go, no matter how dangerous it was. He was furious now. It was one thing to come after him and want him dead for some mysterious reason. It was quite another to go after Marian. That was completely unacceptable.

Angry and hurting thoughts burned in his mind as he stormed through the back hall and up the stairs to the landing. This was exactly the sort of wicked deed Tobin Wade had pulled shortly before his death—targeting Marian in a plot against Aaron. He still hadn't forgiven Tobin for that and doubted he ever would. He was angry and hurt over what Tobin had done to him, too, but going after Marian was far, far worse. These new criminals, whoever they were, must have been Tobin's friends, alright.

"Well, well. So here we are. Just like it should be."

He came to the present with a start as he reached the top, gripping the banister. Della—or more likely, Ellena—was coming out from around a corner, sneering at him as she slinked over in her blue-and-white cleaning woman attire.

"You!" he cried. "What have you done with Marian? And what have you done with _Miss Street?_ " It was bizarre to address her as something other than Miss Street, but when he saw the cruelty in her face he knew that this was not Della. Perry had to be right about what had happened, as horrifying as it was.

"Miss Street ain't gonna bother us none," Ellena replied. "And Marian, well, she's tucked away someplace until we get this thing about you over and done with."

"You're going to kill me then. Is that it?" Aaron continued to clutch the banister, watching the woman closely.

"As payment for what you did to Tobin," Ellena said. "He can't move on in the afterlife because of you! He's stuck somewhere here, a wandering spirit, all because of you!"

"All because of his own vile deeds, you mean," Aaron snapped. "It was me both he and you wanted all along! Why involve Marian?!"

"Why?" Ellena came right up next to him. "Because that was the only sure way to get you to come out of there, of course." She winked at him. "When I saw that Reaper fella talking to you, I knew just what to do."

He stared at her. " _You're_ the one who gave me that message! That's why you didn't talk to me!"

"I couldn't have you figuring that out just yet. So yeah, I brought the message. Then I ditched the robe and came into the gym as Della." Ellena opened her handbag and started to put her hand in. "And now, Dr. Aaron Stuart, you are gonna die."

Her hand shook. "No . . ." Her emerald eyes flickered, turning to brown again for just a moment.

Aaron stared. "Della?!" he exclaimed.

"Della!" That was Sergeant Brice. He ran out from the second-story corridor, coming out very close to where Della was standing. "Fight her, Della. You have to fight her! I'll be right here with you to support you. And I know Perry's coming."

"No, please. . . ." Della looked to her friend with desperation. "I can't control her. She won't stop with Dr. Stuart. She'll kill you too. And Perry. I can't let that happen . . . I can't!"

With her distracted, Aaron tried to reach out and grab her. But just as quickly, Ellena was back in control and withdrew a dagger from her purse. She whipped it out, slashing Aaron's outstretched arm. He cried out and fell back, clutching the new wound.

"You see?" Ellena snarled. "Della can't do a thing. Not one little blessed thing. Sure, she can talk to you for a minute or two, but she can't fight me off. My will is much too strong for the likes of a _secretary._ "

"And what makes you so great?" Brice demanded, anger and bitterness in his voice. "I researched you. You were a thief and a con artist in New Orleans, not to mention a chronic party girl. What did you do that was so valuable with your life?"

"I went out and lived it, unlike her!" Ellena snapped. "I've seen into her memories. All those tireless hours working for Mason, going without supper, hanging around writing briefs and investigating cases till way past midnight. And for what? Does he really appreciate anything she does for him?"

"Yes!" Della shouted, breaking through again.

"Della, you have to keep fighting," Brice said, slowly advancing on her from behind. If he could just get close enough to grab the knife away. . . . "You can't listen to what she says about you not being able to do anything."

"That's right!" came Perry's voice from downstairs as he rushed over from another angle. "Ellena is all alone in the world. She doesn't have what you have, Della—friends who love you and will support you through any trial or heartbreak that comes along. Your love for your friends, and our love for you, makes you strong. You can win against her!"

"SHUT UP!" Her eyes were emerald again. "I'm sick to death of hearing you blather on about friendship and garbage like that. Now, I have this knife. I also have this." She took a small box out of her purse. "All I have to do is push this button and a signal gets sent to Gerard that he can get rid of Marian Stuart. If you don't want me to push it, you'd better cooperate."

"What do you want me to do?" Aaron retorted. "Allow myself to be murdered?"

"Oh no, Doctor," Ellena sneered. "I want you to fight, and fight hard. Try to get this little old thing away from me. Try to do that and keep yourself from being stabbed at the same time. One way or another, you're going to fall down those steps, just like you thought you'd killed Tobin when he pretended to fall off that cliff." She held the device up high, her thumb right on top of the button. With her other hand she advanced with the knife held in front of her, ready to plunge it into Aaron's body if he attacked.

Aaron's patience was just about at an end. "I've had enough of this!" he screamed, dodging the knife as he lunged for Ellena's other hand. At the same moment his fingers closed around her wrist, Sergeant Brice ran over the rest of the way and pried the mysterious box from her hand. Seemingly unconcerned, Ellena sneered and tried to slash at Aaron's back with the knife.

Instead, her hand trembled again. "No," Della choked out. "No, I won't let you harm him!" The knife clattered to the floor, where Aaron kicked it away.

Perry was running up the stairs now. "Della!" he yelled. "Aaron!"

Again the eyes were green. In a furious rage, Ellena kicked back at Brice and then shoved Aaron with all her might, sending him stumbling backwards to the floor. Before he could recover, and before Perry could reach him, she was flying at him to throttle him with her bare hands.

"No, Ellena!"

The new voice sent a shockwave through Aaron as well as Ellena. The woman went sheet-white, falling back and stumbling as she looked wildly around for the source of the voice. "No," she rasped. "It can't be."

"It can't be," Aaron echoed, sitting up and shaking as he loosened his tie.

Perry whirled, seeing the Grim Reaper rushing over to the bottom of the stairs, his dark robes swirling out around him. The hood was still up; Perry could not see his face. But Ellena was practically hyperventilating and Aaron looked like he had slipped into his worst nightmare.

And suddenly it clicked.

"So," Perry said, "this is the final puzzle piece, the part that I couldn't figure out until now." He started down the stairs, seeing that Brice had reached Ellena and was holding onto her. Not that she was a danger now; she was fixated on the Grim Reaper and barely noticed as Brice restrained her arms. In her shaken state, her control was vastly weakened. Her eyes turned brown as Della took over, staring at the scene.

The Reaper stood still, letting Perry speak.

"Now it all makes sense," Perry continued. "The reason why you've been so bound and determined to stick with this case and help Aaron. The reason why you didn't warn him about Tobin Wade in the past. The reason why you had a key to Wade's cabin. The reason why you so vehemently loathe Wade. The solution was so simple, yet I didn't consider it for another very simple reason: I knew it wasn't possible.

"But it _is_ possible, isn't it, David Solomon? The reason why all of these things are the case is because you are fighting to right the wrongs from your past. Your true identity is . . ."

"Tobin Wade. Yes, Mr. Mason, you're right. I knew you would put the pieces together eventually." David Solomon reached up, lowering the hood. "Only I'm not a spirit possessing a living person, as Ellena is. I am alive."

That was too much, after everything else. Aaron slumped back to the floor in a dead faint.


	13. Threat

**Chapter Thirteen**

It almost seemed that time stood still for one long moment. In reality it was only for a split-second. As Aaron collapsed, a figure in heavy skirts rushed out from a corridor on the first floor, calling to him in alarm and horror. "Aaron!"

Perry stepped aside, stunned, as Marian Stuart ran up the stairs and over to Aaron's limp form. "Marian! How did you get free?!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Marian looked up from her examination of Aaron's bleeding arm, clearly distracted. "Free? I got a note from Janet Gwynne saying she knew who was after Aaron and to meet her in her classroom, but she wasn't there. And now coming back, I saw Aaron faint because of . . . of . . ." She turned to look down the stairs, her eyes widening at the sight of Tobin Wade coming to the bottom step and looking up in concern. "Oh . . ." She swallowed hard, trembling. "No, this isn't real. This is all part of the cruel trick someone's playing. No. . . ." She looked down at her husband, who turned his head to the side and groaned.

"This is quite real," Perry said quietly. "Actually, Tobin Wade saved Aaron just now from Ellena."

"B-But you . . . you can't be alive," Marian choked out, staring at their old friend turned enemy. "You can't be!"

"I am," Tobin said, his voice also lowered. "I'm sorry, Marian. I didn't want you or Aaron to find out at all, but I knew it would happen eventually once Aaron was targeted for this outrageous scheme. I still don't know what these people are after, but I'm guessing it's something in the school or on the grounds. Maybe under the ground. Or maybe in another cruel twist of fate, they just want the property the same as I did at the old school."

Aaron's eyes fluttered. "You're not really here, Tobin," he moaned. "It's a nightmare. Everything that's happened tonight is part of that nightmare."

"It's a nightmare, alright, but it's real," Tobin answered.

"How are you alive?" Marian asked, looking to him and then back to Aaron as she worked to stop the bleeding on her husband's arm.

"You're not alive," Aaron insisted. "You were struck repeatedly with a log. No one could have survived that, not even you, Tobin."

"I didn't survive it." Tobin gripped the end of the banister, not daring to come any closer than he already was. "Yes, that log finally killed me for real. But I guess the fates thought it was more fitting that I be sent back and live again, especially after my trick of faking my death in the past."

"Explain yourself." Perry looked hard at Tobin. "Were you alive again when Aaron was on trial for your murder the second time? How was it that your body's disappearance was not discovered at the morgue?"

"I was alive then, yes," Tobin admitted. "But that time I didn't come forward because I didn't remember who I was."

Aaron groaned loudly, placing a hand over his face. "More lies, more excuses! You can't believe what he says, Perry."

"Marian." Tobin looked to Marian, who was still silent and didn't seem to know what to make of any of this. "Even after all the abominable, unforgivable things I did, you still prayed that somehow, the Tobin Wade who had been your and Aaron's friend would come back. That happened. When I was dead, your prayers reached me. I couldn't believe what I'd done or how I'd ever let myself fall so far. I knew there was nothing I could ever do to make up for how I'd betrayed you and Aaron, but I still wanted badly to help you. And . . . I was told that I would be allowed to come back. I don't know why I was given that chance when so many others aren't. But I was, with the condition that I use the time I had to make my life over and make others' lives better."

Della, still badly shaken and still being restrained by Sergeant Brice in case Ellena took over again, looked from him to the Stuarts and back again. Brice narrowed his eyes, just listening, not sure what he thought of the tale.

"And you came back with amnesia," Perry stated rather than asked. He looked doubtful.

"Well, you don't think being hit repeatedly with anything hard wouldn't cause _some_ damage, do you?" Tobin returned.

"No, I suppose not," Perry relented. "But if you were allowed to live at all, why not heal the damage from the injuries all the way?"

"Who knows why anything happens or doesn't happen," Tobin said wryly. "I wandered for some months in that state, not knowing who I was nor having any idea that the court case in the papers was for my murder. By the way, I don't know what happened at the morgue or why nothing was said about my body disappearing. I was in such a daze when I left.

"But then my memory came back—in bits and pieces at first, then the rest all at once. I remembered what a treacherous person I was. I knew I could never face either of you again." He looked to Aaron and Marian. "You just thought I was out of your life for good. I couldn't let you know otherwise. I couldn't put that burden on you."

Aaron finally pulled himself into a shaking sitting position, with Marian's assistance. "But _why,_ Tobin?" he exclaimed. "Why did you take on a false name and go to work at a car shop, of all places? That would have been so beneath you before."

"That's why I did it," Tobin answered. "I was afraid of money, of wealth. I was afraid I would grow greedy again if I was presented with a lucrative and pleasant job. I chose the most unpleasant thing I could think of—working with cars.

"As for the name, well . . . David in the Bible was highly favored of God, until his selfishness and greed got the better of him and he fell from grace. It sounded like a good alias for me. I came up with the last name on the spur of the moment. It doesn't really mean anything, although Solomon was David's son. And I suppose in a way, David Solomon was the offspring of Tobin Wade."

". . . What are you going to do now?" Marian asked.

"I don't know," Tobin admitted. "I should really try to communicate with Ellena and try to help her understand what's going on and that Aaron isn't at fault in any way, but it looks like Miss Street is back in control again. And the night isn't over yet. Ellena's cohorts are still out there somewhere. They probably didn't even know Ellena was going to suddenly act on her own to try to kill Aaron."

"Then . . . they'll still have their own plans," Aaron realized, sickened.

"That's right," Perry said in concern. "Pete Kelton is outside looking for them."

"So is Lieutenant Drumm," Brice worried.

"By now they could have sneaked back inside to plan their next move," Perry said grimly. "That can't be allowed."

"And we can't forget about Mrs. Stuart being led away by a note supposedly sent by Janet Gwynne," Brice spoke up.

"I can't believe she's mixed up in this," Aaron objected. "Maybe someone just signed her name."

"That's possible," Marian said. "Or what if Janet really did have information and someone found out and took her?!"

Perry stiffened. "We'll have to find her," he determined. "Do you know what she was wearing tonight?"

"I don't remember seeing her tonight," Aaron realized.

"I did, once," Marian said. "She was dressed as a witch."

Perry nodded. "Alright." He looked to the Stuarts. "The safest place for both of you right now would probably be back in the gymnasium, surrounded by plenty of people."

"Then we'll go back there," Aaron determined, reaching for the banister to support himself as he pulled himself to his feet. Marian rose with him, keeping the handkerchief pressed over his wounded arm.

Della looked at the blood, her stomach turning. "Ellena did that," she spoke, barely above a whisper. "She did it using my body to wield the knife."

"And she would have done a lot worse if you hadn't insisted you wouldn't let her," Brice said firmly. "You stopped her from seriously wounding Dr. Stuart."

"And you stopped her from strangling me." Aaron looked back to Tobin at the bottom of the stairs. "You saved my life."

"That doesn't take away any of what I did to you and Marian in the past," Tobin said. "I'll never be able to make up for that."

Aaron slowly nodded. "I am grateful, Tobin, even though I don't fully understand. It's so much to process." He swallowed hard. "And forgiveness . . . and trust . . . can't come easily. I need time to really think about this, all of this."

"I don't expect anything from either of you," Tobin said. "And I'll try to make sure you don't see me again. I won't deliberately seek you out, not unless I have to." He stepped back, pulling up the hood of the Grim Reaper robe. "But I'll be around, at least for tonight. I won't let them kill you, Aaron."

"Tobin!" Aaron called, then hesitated. "Thank you."

Marian managed a wan but sincere smile. "Yes, thank you, Tobin. I'm . . . I'm glad our friend wasn't gone for good."

"I'm glad too," Tobin said quietly as he vanished into the shadows.

Aaron carefully started down the stairs in a definite daze, Marian holding onto his arm. "I still can hardly believe any of this," he said. "It still feels like part of a dream."

"But not a nightmare now," Marian softly prompted.

"No, not a nightmare," Aaron conceded. "Not if Tobin is sincere."

"I believe he is," Perry said. He came down the stairs to allow them passage, then looked up again at Della and Brice. In all the commotion and the astonishing revelations, he had not had any chance to really tend to Della or talk to her about how she was doing. And he knew she must be reeling from the magnitude of everything that had happened during the fight for control of her body.

Della definitely was, and only now that the current scene was ending and preparations for the next stage were beginning did she allow herself to really feel all the terror and heartache and panic from a few minutes previous. She slumped against Brice, shaking and shuddering as the tears came. He held onto her firmly and comfortingly, his heart going out to her.

Perry's heart twisted; he wanted to be up there with her too. But he needed to make sure the Stuarts returned safely to the gymnasium. He knew Tobin was still there, watching and waiting, but it would be better if at least two were present. He would have a heart-to-heart with Della when all of the chaos was over.

Brice watched as Perry and the Stuarts departed for the gym, followed by the black-clad Grim Reaper. "You won against Ellena, Della," he said kindly. "Perry and I knew you would. Give me that last piece of necklace. I'll take it away so she can't even try to get control of you anymore."

Della started to nod but then paused. "Wait," she said. "I think I should talk to her."

Brice blinked in surprise. "Della, why?" he exclaimed. "After everything she did . . ."

"I can still feel her presence," Della said. "She's confused and in a lot of pain. And . . ." She bit her lip. "I'm afraid she's growing angry at her comrades. If I can't calm her down, she'll probably just try to possess someone else if not me."

"But you can't even trust her," Brice objected. "Della, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Maybe not, but I have to do it," Della answered, laying a hand on Brice's arm. "Maybe I can even find out why her friends have been doing this to Dr. Stuart in the first place."

Seeing she was determined, Brice finally relented. "Okay. But I'll be right here if something starts to go wrong."

Della smiled. "I know."

In her mind, Ellena was pacing back and forth, definitely agitated. She seemed to sense Della's approach, as she only spoke when Della drew near. "I can't believe it," she said in a daze. "Tobin's alive. That's the one possibility I never considered when I couldn't find him anywhere in the afterlife."

"Who would consider it?" Della said gently. "Most people aren't able to come back from the dead. Tobin was given a rare gift."

"Yeah. And I almost threatened him!" Ellena whipped around to face Della. "Gerard told me this David Solomon guy was messing up what we were trying to do. He told me to call him up and tell him we'd kill him if he didn't lay off. So I called the place. He didn't answer, but if he had . . ." She swallowed hard. "I would've known right off the bat it was him." She shook her head. "I've only been in this whole thing because of him, and I could've ended up mixed up in a plot that would've killed him for real!"

Della hesitated, then carefully reached out and laid a hand on Ellena's shoulder. "But now you know the truth," she said kindly. "You don't have to go along with what they're doing any longer."

"Oh, I'm not going to." Ellena's voice had darkened. "Nevermind Aaron Stuart. I'm going to turn my wrath on Gerard and Eliza."

"How will that help anything?" Della exclaimed. "Ellena, I don't want you possessing me to harm anyone, no matter what they've done. If you really want to help Tobin, tell me what it is your friends want with Dr. Stuart. I can't believe they also want revenge on him."

"Nah, not at all," Ellena frowned. "Actually, Gerard never told me exactly what it is they want. He just said there's something somewhere here that they're after."

"And how would killing Dr. Stuart help them get it?" Della frowned too. "That would just bring the police and make it more difficult to look."

"Yeah, that's true," Ellena realized. "I guess I didn't even stop to think about that. I was just glad to think about Aaron getting what I thought he deserved."

"But you heard Tobin say that Dr. Stuart wasn't at fault, didn't you?" Della prompted.

"Yeah." Ellena looked to Della. "So I'm going to do what I can to help you. I can give you Gerard's cell phone number. I won't try to possess you, but you can pretend to be me and call him. Try to find out what he's up to."

"You don't know what he and Eliza are planning?" Della said in surprise.

"I don't know if they're planning anything," Ellena said. "They told me to try to get the Stuarts out of the party. But then they weren't around to take over and I decided I wouldn't wait for them."

"They were supposed to take over?" Della repeated.

"That's right. So something must have gone wrong for them to not be here." Ellena shrugged.

"Maybe that means Pete and Steve have them pinned down," Della said hopefully.

"Or they're hurting Pete and Steve," Ellena retorted.

Della didn't want to think about that. "Thank you, Ellena, for anything you can do to help," she said sincerely. "I truly appreciate it. I know Tobin will too."

"Yeah." Ellena averted her gaze. "Okay, the number." She recited it and Della memorized it just as quickly.

"First I'll see if I can get Pete or Steve to answer," Della said, definitely worried about them now. "Then I'll try Gerard."

"Suit yourself," said Ellena. "I just wanna see him and Eliza brought down now."

And, Della thought to herself in relief, that was a definite improvement.

xxxx

Pete gripped his gun, standing still in the shadows as he frantically performed a visual sweep of the area. No one was in sight, nor had they been during all the time he had been out here. And there was no blood on the ground that he could follow. The wounded man must have kept the injury covered or clutched.

The sound of someone in the grass behind him caused him to whirl, pointing his weapon right at the emerging shadow. "Wait!" a voice commanded. "It's Lieutenant Drumm."

Pete sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping. "Boy, am I glad to see you," he proclaimed.

"Perry filled me in on what's been happening," Steve said. "Has there been any trace of the people you chased out here?"

"Nothing." Pete slowly walked forward, his gun still clutched in his hand. "I know they couldn't have gone far, but there's just no sign of them!"

"Well, if they couldn't have gone far, they must either still be outside or else they doubled back and went inside again," Steve said.

"I haven't heard any cars start up," Pete said. "The parking lot's just right over there." He nodded to the next side of the building.

"Maybe they're hiding out over there anyway," Steve suggested. "Let's go over and look."

Pete was agreeable to that. But as he stepped forward, it felt like he was on top of something hard under the grass. "What the . . ." He bent down, feeling through the blades. "There's some kind of a door here!"

"What?!" Steve stared as Pete lifted a square trapdoor covered in grass. "I'm sure Dr. Stuart didn't know this was here."

"I'm sure he didn't either," Pete agreed, shining a flashlight into the hole. "But what's even stranger is if what these people want is down this hole. They wouldn't have needed to torment Dr. Stuart to get something from here."

"You're right," Steve said. "So it must be something else. Maybe the answer is in where this thing comes out." He slipped his gun back into its holster. "In any case, this could easily be where those two intruders went when they got away from you. Let's try it." He started down the ladder leading into the tunnel.

Putting his own gun away, Pete uneasily followed.

xxxx

Paul was tense and bewildered in the gymnasium. When he saw Hamilton coming in, he was even more surprised. "Hey," he called, going over to the district attorney. "What are you doing here?"

"I came because I was worried about Della," Hamilton replied. "Is she here?"

"Yeah, somewhere," Paul answered. "But I can't find the Stuarts or Janet Gwynne. Oh!" He stared in surprise as the Stuarts entered through a different door, Perry right with them. "Dr. Stuart's hurt," Paul exclaimed, seeing how Marian was holding his left arm.

"Well, that's typical," Hamilton retorted, hurrying over to the arriving group with Paul in tow. "Perry, what's going on?!"

"Hello, Hamilton, Paul," Perry said, definitely distracted. "I'm glad you're here; the behind-the-scenes events at this masquerade are getting out of hand."

"I'll say," Hamilton frowned. "Dr. Stuart, what happened?"

"It's a long story," Aaron mumbled. He sank into a nearby chair with Marian at his side. Concerned at the sight of the blood, Paul went to them to see if he could help.

"Hamilton, we have to find Ellena's cohorts," Perry told the district attorney. "They're here somewhere and who knows what they're plotting!"

"Fine, we'll find them!" Hamilton retorted. "But what about Della? And Ellena?"

"The Ellena problem isn't as serious right now as this other one might be," Perry said. "I'll explain later, but right now Della is in control again."

"Well, thank goodness for _that!_ " Hamilton exclaimed.

"And here they come now," Perry said in relief, seeing Sergeant Brice enter with an arm around Della's shoulders. Della looked resolute and determined and, Perry noted, very brown-eyed.

"Perry! Mr. Burger!" Della smiled to see them, but then quickly sobered. "I've been talking to Ellena. She doesn't know what her friends are planning, but she gave me Gerard's phone number. I tried calling Pete and Steve first, but they're not answering. I thought maybe you'd like to be here when I try Gerard."

"Yes, I would," said Perry.

"What is going on here?" Hamilton said in bewilderment. "How can you trust anything that woman says to you, Della?"

"Oh, she wants to help now because she's angry at Gerard and Eliza for setting up this whole scheme and getting her to want to participate as revenge for Tobin Wade's death when Tobin Wade is actually alive," Della replied as she took out her phone.

" _WHAT?!"_ Hamilton yelped.

"It's a long story, Hamilton," Perry said.

"But . . . Tobin Wade alive . . ." Hamilton shook his head. "Perry, is this case ever going to start making sense?"

"Actually, Hamilton, a lot of things made sense once I realized that truth," Perry replied. "But what's this about Eliza? Wade told me Gerard's lady friend was named Carola."

"Maybe they're the same person?" Hamilton suggested. "One name or the other could be an alias. Or a middle name."

"Perhaps," Perry agreed.

"It's ringing," Della announced.

After a moment the phone clicked and an irritated voice came on. "What is it, Ellena?"

Della put on her best imitation of Ellena's Southern accent as she replied. "I was wonderin' where you and Eliza are, Gerard," she said. "Don't you remember you were supposed to be here if I got the Stuarts out of the gym?"

"Unfortunately, we got held up," Gerard snapped. "Some guy shot at me in the dark."

"And hit you?" Della exclaimed.

"Yeah, right in the arm. And he came after us, so we had to get away."

"So . . . where are you now?" Della asked.

"We're back in the school. We got in without being seen."

"Well, that was a clever trick. How'd you manage that?"

"Nevermind. What's happening with the Stuarts?"

"I don't think they'll be leaving the gym any time soon."

"You said you got them out!" Gerard practically roared.

Della held the phone away from her ear. "I did, but they're back now."

"You should have moved on them yourself."

"I tried that. It didn't work!" Della hoped that wasn't the wrong thing to say.

Gerard let loose with a foul string of swearing that had Della cringing and Hamilton and Brice wincing. Perry's eyes narrowed.

"Okay," Gerard said at last. "Eliza and I are back in the drama department, getting costumes for real this time."

"But your arm's hurt!" Della protested. "How are you gonna be able to do anything?"

"New plan," Gerard said darkly. "We never told you exactly what we did to make the school seem haunted. Well, we're going to work with that full-blast."

Della's heart began to gather speed. That did not sound good. "So . . . how's that supposed to get rid of Aaron Stuart?" she asked.

"We're going to turn on all the crazy devices at once, including the cold rods we installed throughout the school to make certain spots get cold without needing an air conditioner to do it. When everybody's good and distracted and Aaron's freaked out by the 'vengeful spirits', we'll pipe gas through the ventilation system."

"Fatal gas?" Della asked. The men tensed.

"Well . . . I don't recommend sticking around to find out." With that, the call disconnected.

Della looked up at Perry, Hamilton, and Brice in horror. "That man is either insane or completely evil," she said. "It sounds like he's going to kill everyone in the gym just to get at Dr. Stuart!"

"It's possible it's just a knockout gas and they'll come in and murder Aaron while everyone is lying unconscious, but we can't just assume they don't plan to kill everyone," Perry said. "We have to stop them before they start this madness. I'm going back to the drama department, with Paul this time. Della, you keep trying to get Pete or Steve on the phone. Hamilton, Sergeant Brice, stay and watch over the Stuarts."

"Oh, wait a minute, Perry," Brice exclaimed, grabbing Perry's arm. "These people have already committed crimes and are planning another, huge one. The L.A.P.D. should be involved in their capture. I think the Stuarts will be alright in here for now, as long as Della and Mr. Burger stay with them."

Perry considered that and nodded. "You're right; they probably don't plan to murder the Stuarts until they turn the school into a haunted location en masse. I'd be glad for you to come with us, Sergeant."

Hamilton shook his head. "Acting like you're running the whole show, like usual."

"Oh Perry . . ." Della gave her longtime boss and friend a worried look. "Please be careful! And you too, Sergeant." She turned to Brice.

"We will be," Perry assured her. "I'll just go tell Paul what we're up to." He looked to where Paul was helping Marian to bandage Aaron's arm.

"I don't think we should wait," Brice countered. "They could already have left the drama room. I'm going now. Goodbye, Della." He laid a hand on Della's arm before hurrying out the door.

Deciding Brice had the right idea, Perry quickly chased after him. Della fell back, looking to Hamilton in distress. "What could possibly be so valuable here that anyone would be willing to kill someone, let alone dozens of innocent people, just to have it?!"

Hamilton gave her a grim look. "Unfortunately, Della, there are plenty of things that can bring out someone's worst side. You saw that on a smaller scale with that Tobin Wade character."

"I know," Della sighed, "and I don't understand that, either. But at least he's actually trying to make restitution. He seems very sincere and humble about it."

"Speaking of Tobin Wade," Hamilton said as he led Della over near the Stuarts and Paul, "how about you tell me how he's alive?"

"Alright, Mr. Burger, but I should warn you that it's a story with a very supernatural flavor," Della said.

Hamilton groaned. "Well, by now I half-expected that."


	14. Holograms

**Chapter Fourteen**

The tunnel under the school was long and twisting and confusing. Steve had long ago grown weary of the winding paths. From Pete's expression, he had as well.

"It has to come out somewhere," Pete frowned. "Why haven't we found a door yet?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Steve retorted. He pressed against the wall, which he had been doing all along the way. If there was a hidden door anywhere down here, he hadn't been able to find it.

A sudden, strange whirring noise brought their attention sharply upward. Pete stared at one particular stretch of ceiling where the noise seemed to be the loudest.

"I think someone just activated part of the Manzana Valley Prep hauntings," he said.

"And just what part of it could be making a noise like that?" Steve objected.

"Maybe the recording device they're using to play back all the grotesque threats?" Pete suggested

"I don't hear any voices," Steve pointed out.

"I wonder . . ." Pete trailed off with a frown.

"What?" Steve demanded.

"Well, I don't remember hearing about this happening, but I just started to wonder whether there could be any holographic projectors with ghostly images," Pete said. "The Manzana Valley Prep hauntings have mostly involved hearing and feeling things, but it would seem strange if they didn't also have some images."

"And maybe there's a hole in the floor of the ground level where the projector beam comes through and displays the holograms?" Steve said dryly.

"I know it doesn't sound reasonable," Pete said ruefully. "But okay, if it's not actually between the ceiling here and the floor there, there has to be some other reason why we're hearing it so clearly—and why I haven't found any trace of a projector."

Steve sighed. "Okay, maybe there is some odd little space where a machine has been hidden. But why? And how? It would almost imply that such a space was built right into the school during construction. And _that_ implies that this scheme may have been planned all the way back then and someone on the construction crew was secretly paid to make these additions."

"That's possible, isn't it?" Pete felt around the area, certain there had to be a lever or spring nearby. Above them, the whirring noise persisted in a very loud and ominous manner.

"Of course it's _possible,_ " Steve retorted. "But why on Earth would . . ."

He trailed off as a horrific crash actually vibrated the area where they were. Pete grabbed onto the wall, his eyes wide.

"What _is_ that?!" Steve exclaimed.

" _Aaron Stuart,"_ a voice now intoned from above. _"This is your last warning. Now you're going to die."_

Pete stared upward. "I wonder . . . no, it's too fantastic."

"I'm not sure that anything is too fantastic at this point," Steve scowled. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"Well," Pete said slowly, "I've heard about some companies, both here and in Oregon, that have been developing incredibly realistic and lifelike holographic technology. Not only is it three-dimensional, some of it is advanced enough to cause physical damage."

"Why would anyone develop something so dangerous?!" Steve yelled over the sound of another crash.

"I think the original idea was that it could be useful to the military," Pete called back. "Then someone else decided that it could also work for gaming technology. You know, for people who want a real hands-on experience."

"And just maybe someone had the brilliant idea that it could also be used as made-to-order poltergeists," Steve guessed.

"It would sure be convincing," Pete shuddered.

"If our phones worked down here, I'd try calling a couple of people I know and ask them about their company's holograms," Steve grumbled. "Unfortunately, down here we're on our own."

"Help me look for the panel," Pete requested. "I'm sure there's a way upstairs from right here."

Steve finally nodded. "Alright." The only other option was continuing down the tunnel, and he had to admit that it seemed more logical to stay right here, where all the strange things were happening.

He just had to wonder whatever was going on upstairs and if anyone was getting hurt.

xxxx

Aaron jumped a mile as something crashed out in the hall, right near the gym. "What was that?!" he gasped.

Most of the students had heard it too, in spite of the blaring music. Some of them ran over to where the Stuarts were still sitting near the door. "Wow, what's going on out there?!" one boy cried.

"Don't go out there," Aaron snapped in concern. "You might end up hurt."

Paul drew his gun and hurried into the hall. "A table fell over out here," he said in disbelief. "And . . . there's something coming towards us!" His stomach twisted. "Oh no."

"You sound like you know what it is, Paul," Hamilton frowned.

"I told Perry that some of the ghostly devices were dangerous, but I never got to explain how," Paul told him as he rushed back into the gym. "I found out that a very advanced holographic machine was delivered here in secret right before all this chaos started."

"So what does that mean?" Hamilton asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It means that the school is probably under attack," Paul replied. "My guess is that projectors have been set up in key locations all over the building. Gerard and Eliza, Carola, whoever, activated them for their big finish."

Hamilton scoffed. "We're under attack by holograms? That doesn't sound very dangerous."

"These particular holograms are," Paul said, his visage grim. "They've been developed to be able to cause a certain amount of physical damage. You're supposed to be able to control them to make sure they're not deadly, but how much are you willing to bet that Gerard and Eliza turned off all the safeties?"

"I've heard about technology like that, but I don't really believe it exists," Hamilton retorted, folding his arms.

"You might be forced to," Paul said.

Two students came to the doorway and stared out. "That's wild!" one of them cried. "It looks like a spirit flying down the hall, right at us!"

"Shut the door!" Paul barked.

The students didn't need any prodding. But even as they let the heavy door close and tried to hold it shut, it rattled from the force of the thing outside.

"This is terrible!" Della exclaimed. "What if it can get through the door?"

"Then we've got a problem," Paul said grimly. "We can't fight a hologram. We have to find the main machine and turn everything off from there."

"And Perry and Sergeant Brice are right out in this!" Della wailed in distress. "Maybe Steve and Pete are too; we don't know where they are now!"

"I know." Paul turned to look at another part of the room. "I'm going to go out this door over here and see if I can find them _and_ the machine. You stay here with Burger and the Stuarts. If we can't stop this in a few minutes, maybe you'd better consider evacuation procedures. We don't know what kind of gas they're planning to pipe through here. And now we've got these holograms to contend with too."

"I've already been thinking about that," Aaron said. "Frankly, we don't know if it's safe outside either, which is why I hesitate to send everyone out. But . . ." He shook his head. "Of course we can't run the risk of everyone being gassed, even if it does turn out to just be a knockout gas. If we don't hear from you in five minutes, I'll start the evacuation."

"Good," Paul nodded. He looked to Della. "Goodbye, Beautiful."

"Paul . . . !" Della stared after him, conflicted, as he ran off. "I can't just sit here while they're all out there in danger!" she burst out.

"Della, what could you do out there?" Hamilton retorted. "It's important to be here with the Stuarts too. And if we have to start evacuating, you'll be needed for that."

"You're here and so is Tobin Wade. Somewhere." Della briefly glanced around for the Grim Reaper but soon abandoned the effort. "So is the rest of the staff, except Janet Gwynne. I think I saw Gene Torg and Pearl Chute here too. There should be enough adults to handle the evacuation. I can't stay here, Mr. Burger. I have to go try to help all the others."

"Miss Street, there's no telling what's out there," Aaron exclaimed. "That . . . hologram or whatever it is outside the door sounds serious."

"And I'm serious about making sure Perry and Paul and Sergeant Brice and Steve and Pete are safe!" Della insisted. "Also, since Janet is missing, how can we just leave her here while everyone else evacuates? She could be somewhere in danger too."

Hamilton groaned, running a hand into his hair. "Maybe Perry or Paul or one of the others will find Ms. Gwynne," he said.

"And maybe they won't," Della retorted. "None of them are specifically looking for her. I could handle that, while at the same time looking for them!"

Hamilton sighed. "Frankly, Della, it doesn't seem like anything I could say will make a difference at this point. If you're so determined to do this, I can't stop you."

Della smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Burger. I promise I'll stay safe." With that she ran to the door through which Paul had left and vanished through it.

Hamilton slumped back, shaking his head. "It's too bad no one can really make that promise and be one hundred percent able to fulfill it," he said quietly, sending up a silent prayer for all of them.

xxxx

The costume room was empty when Perry and Brice arrived, but as they listened, there were definite sounds coming from the other side of the wall.

"That must be the stage," Perry noted.

"Here's the door over here," Brice announced, opening a door half-hidden behind several costume racks.

"Be careful, Sergeant." Perry followed him over. "Do you see anything?"

"Only the blue stage lights are on," Brice replied. "It looks kind of eerie. I don't see anyone onstage . . . wait!" He tensed. "Someone just came out from behind the curtain."

"Who is it?" Perry demanded. "Can you tell?"

"It's two people," Brice said in surprise. "Two women. One of them is holding a gun on the other."

"I don't understand why you're doing this!" the captive cried.

Perry stiffened. "That's Janet Gwynne!"

"Why? That really shouldn't matter to you," the captor retorted. "Anyway, I don't think Gerard would want to tell you; you're known for talking too much."

"Well, he's the one who got bent out of shape when he saw I'd accidentally found one of your little machines," Janet snapped. "I didn't even know what it was, but he acted like I'd learned everything!"

"Gerard doesn't take any chances. He already decided that Ellena and the woman she was possessing are expendable. He feels the same about you." The woman prodded Janet forward with her gun. "You'll step off the stage and it will look like an accident."

"You don't want to do this." Janet's voice was firm and angry, but there was fear in it as well. "I can tell by the way you can't hold the gun steady. Even if Gerard is a murderer, you're not."

"But I haven't tried to stop him," was the reply. "That makes me an accessory."

"If you force me to fall off the stage, it's first-degree for sure!" Janet exclaimed.

Brice rushed through the door, gun outstretched. "Stop! L.A.P.D.!" he yelled.

The woman with the gun jumped a mile and whirled, aiming her weapon at Brice. Janet knocked it from her hands, sending it spinning across the floor. Perry grabbed it up and hurried over to her. "Are you alright, Ms. Gwynne?"

"Fine," Janet said in relief. "But what's going on around here?!"

"I think this young lady should be able to tell us," Perry replied, training his gun on the now-subdued woman.

Brice came over, still holding his gun. "You have the right to remain silent," he recited as he took out the handcuffs.

Suddenly the woman sprang into action again, kicking out at Brice and running in desperation for backstage. He grabbed for her, catching one of her arms before she could get away.

A gunshot rang out through the room from somewhere near the ceiling. With a gasp of shock and pain, the woman sank to her knees and then to the floor.

Janet went stiff in horror. "Is she dead?!"

Perry dropped down to look while Brice scanned the rafters in the direction of the shot. "She's alive," he reported. "Come here and try to stop the bleeding." Taking out his phone, he dialed 911.

Janet, stunned but steeling herself for the task at hand, knelt as well and took a handkerchief to press against the wound. "It's in her shoulder," she reported.

Perry nodded. "She should be alright, unless she loses too much blood."

"The shock caused her to black out," Janet frowned. "And what are we going to do with that maniac in here with us?"

Perry glanced to Sergeant Brice. "I don't know," he said quietly.

"You might as well come out," Brice called up to the mysterious shooter. "You're never going to get away with this."

Another gunshot answered him, drilling into the stage near his feet. "You have to be crazy if you think I'm going to surrender," a male voice snarled. "I've waited too long for this."

"For what?" Brice exclaimed. "It isn't revenge on Dr. Stuart that you want. What could be so important?"

"I'm not going to tell you that, either." For a moment there was silence. Then without warning, a heavy sandbag plunged towards Brice. He ducked out of the way just before it hit the stage.

"It's a distraction," Perry realized as he hung up with the dispatcher. "He's getting away!"

"Not on my watch," Brice vowed, hurrying across the stage and still looking desperately up at the catwalks. He couldn't climb up himself, but if he could figure out which one Gerard was on, he could be waiting at the point of descent.

Perry shook his head. "You have to marvel at the strength of that man," he remarked. "He's wounded and yet he's still doing all of this. A man with that level of determination is very dangerous."

Janet was barely listening. "Look out!" she screamed at Brice.

Gerard was jumping down from the catwalk, directly at Brice. The sergeant leaped and tackled him, bringing him to the floor. As they struggled, Gerard's gun between them, Perry got to his feet.

"Stop!" he commanded, firing his gun into the air.

It didn't even faze Gerard. Bent on whatever ideas he was fighting to fulfill, he pushed the gun into Brice's torso and fired.

Brice gasped, falling back to the floor and going still. Sneering, Gerard got to his feet and looked to Perry, holding his gun level with Perry's. In an instant he had fired, knocking Perry's gun off the stage and across the floor.

Perry's stomach turned. "You've just shot a police officer," he said, sickened at the sight of Brice lying there so lifeless. Was he dead? Considering the angle of the bullet, if he wasn't dead it wasn't likely he would live long, especially if the wound was left untreated. And right now, Perry couldn't get to him.

"It's a crying shame, too," Gerard said darkly. "Aaron Stuart was supposed to be the only casualty. No one would have connected his death with me, especially since I didn't even know Tobin Wade. It was Carola who knew him. She got us in on this whole plot. She got her whole family in on it."

"Carola?" Perry blinked. "Isn't this woman Eliza?" He indicated the wounded woman near his feet.

Gerard sneered. "Yeah. Carola is her twin sister. Same voice and everything." He held the gun at Perry now. "Of course, I'm only telling you this because you won't be around to tell anyone else."

"So, you're going to commit two more murders?" Perry said darkly. "And how many more?"

"As many as I have to." Gerard started to squeeze the trigger.

" _NO!"_ Della screamed as she ran into the auditorium.

The distraction was a lifesaver. Gerard stiffened, staring into the darkness of the audience. Unable to see who had cried out, and now no longer caring about lingering, he turned and fled backstage. A door banged shut behind him.

Perry looked out into the darkness. "Della?" he called in surprise.

"Yes!" Della rushed up to the stage. "Oh Perry, are you alright?!"

" _I_ am," Perry said slowly. "Della, you saved my life."

Della froze, hearing the odd inflection in Perry's voice. "What about Sergeant Brice?"

Perry looked over at the other man. "Gerard shot him," he said quietly. "I'm afraid he's dead." Now that he was free to go over and look, he walked quickly across the stage and knelt down.

Crying out in horror, Della found the stairs and rushed up as well. "No," she protested, falling to her knees beside her fallen friend. "He was with me only a short time ago. . . . He tried to help me after I regained control of my body. . . ." She grabbed his hand, feeling for a pulse.

Perry frowned, having noticed something he hadn't seen from a distance under the eerie blue lights. But before he could comment, Brice groaned and opened his eyes. "Della?"

"You're alive!" Della exclaimed in amazement and joy. "Sergeant, we thought you were dead!"

"I don't even see a wound," Perry said in surprise. "Bullet-resistant vest?"

"Yeah." Brice weakly smiled as he tried to push himself up. "I guess being hit at that close range stunned me for a few minutes." He cringed in pain. "I think I'll be pretty badly bruised for a while. Of course, that's better than the alternative."

"It certainly is," Perry declared, relieved that he was alright.

"And I hear the ambulance sirens," Janet called out.

"Good," Perry said. "Della, stay here with Ms. Gwynne. Gerard has to be stopped before he can do whatever it is he just ran off to do."

"He's probably going to kill Dr. Stuart," Della exclaimed.

"Or the entire gymnasium," Perry said grimly. "He's definitely insane or evil enough to do it. I hope they're evacuating."

"I'm sure they are by now," Della told him.

Sergeant Brice was standing by now. After quickly reloading his gun, he made his way to the backstage door and slowly opened it. "The hallway's clear," he reported.

A spectral image floated past in the next moment and he jumped back.

"What was that?" Della gasped.

"I'd say a hologram," said Perry.

"Gerard must have rigged a projector near here," Brice mused. He stepped into the hall.

Della looked to Perry. "I suppose you're going with Sergeant Brice."

"Naturally," Perry said. He laid a hand on Della's shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm alright," Della said. "I'm just worried about you and everyone else."

Perry smiled gently. "We'll be alright."

"Perry . . ." Della gripped Perry's arm. "Sergeant Brice was only alright because he had a bullet-resistant vest. If that had been you Gerard had shot . . ."

"I won't let him have the chance," Perry assured her. With that he stood and hurried to follow Brice.

Della slumped back. "He would have had the chance if I hadn't come in when I did," she said quietly.

xxxx

At long last a panel flew open in the ceiling of the long and winding tunnel when a particular section of wall was pressed. Steve, being taller, pulled himself up and through the opening and then knelt on the floor to help Pete up.

"Where are we?" Pete wondered, gripping Steve's wrists and bracing himself on the wall as he half-climbed, half was pulled up.

"An office," Steve noted. "Probably Dr. Stuart's."

Pete slipped, nearly falling to the floor below. Gritting his teeth, Steve held on, even as he fell halfway into the opening again himself. Finally he and Pete both managed to catch themselves. The second attempt to bring Pete up succeeded, and he knelt in shaking relief on the floor with Steve.

"Thanks," he gasped.

"Anytime," Steve said. "But let's not make it happen again soon, okay?"

"That's fine with me." Pete got to his feet, wandering around the office to confirm its identity. "This is Dr. Stuart's office, alright. But how could the trapdoor be in his floor without him knowing about it?"

Steve closed the panel and stood. "Are you suggesting he _does_ know about it?"

"I don't know," Pete frowned. "How about we find him and ask?"

"Works for me," said Steve.

But before either of them could move, the door burst open and admitted a figure dressed as a Grim Reaper. It gripped its scythe with one hand and, upon noticing the room's occupants, swung the weapon right at them!


	15. Witch

**Chapter Fifteen**

Both Steve and Pete dived to the side as the scythe came at them. "I don't suppose this is one of those holograms," Steve grunted.

"I don't think so," Pete replied from the other side of the room. "But if it's one of those advanced ones, it could be pretty dangerous."

"Not as much as a real person." Steve got to his feet, drawing his gun. "Alright, put that thing down," he ordered the Reaper.

Instead the Reaper turned to flee—and was promptly grabbed by Paul coming up from behind. "Okay, Pal," Paul frowned. "The jig's up."

Steve looked to his friend in surprise. "Paul! Do you know who this is?"

"I know who he probably wants us to think he is," Paul replied. The Reaper struggled in his grasp but suddenly cried out in pain. Paul took the opportunity to pull down the hood.

Pete's expression was blank, but Steve's eyes glittered in recognition. "So, we meet again," he said. "Mr. Gerard Comi of Trapezoid Solutions. I thought you were being watched."

"I found a way to elude your officers," Gerard said furiously.

"And you're wounded from where my bullet hit you!" Pete said. "That's why you gripped the scythe with just one hand. Normally it's held with both."

"It's also why he cried out in pain just now," Paul said. "He must have bumped the wound struggling so much." He kept a firm grasp on the angry man.

"Well, Mr. Comi, it gives me a great deal of pleasure to inform you that you're under arrest," Steve declared. He started to recite the Miranda Rights, but was cut off as Gerard spoke.

"You're making a mistake if you think you've got me," he snarled. "I'll give to you what I gave to your partner."

Steve's eyes flashed. "What did you do to Sergeant Brice?!"

Paul stiffened, seeing a fury there that Steve had only rarely unleashed in the past. It only tended to come out when a fellow officer or another close friend was harmed; usually Steve managed to keep his emotions in check at all other times. "Take it easy, Steve," he said in concern. "It's not going to help anything to blow your stack."

Gerard sneered. "In all honesty, he's probably dead. I left him on the floor, bleeding his guts out."

Steve clenched a hand into a fist and drew back, wanting with all his heart to belt the man. But then, fighting to get his feelings under control, he took a shaking breath. "If he's dead, you're very likely going to get the death penalty," he said in a low and deadly voice. He finished reciting the Miranda Rights and snapped on the handcuffs. "I'm going to call for a squad car to take you in."

Pete bit his lip, his heart going out to Steve. Silently he prayed that Gerard was lying or mistaken. "Paul, who was Gerard trying to make us think he was?" he asked.

"Another guest dressed as a Grim Reaper," Paul said. "I don't think I want this guy to know who it is yet, so I'll wait to tell you more. You haven't seen Perry, have you? He was with Sergeant Brice."

"We haven't seen him," Steve said, his voice pinched. "We've been under the school."

"Huh?" Paul blinked in bewilderment.

"There's a tunnel snaking under the building," Pete explained. "We came up through a trapdoor here in Dr. Stuart's office. One of Gerard's machines was set up close by; we could hear it down there."

"There's a hologram going up and down the corridor outside," Paul said. "The projector must be there."

"It must be," Pete agreed. "Well . . . after we send this creep packing, what are we going to do?"

"I'm going to try calling Perry right now," Paul said.

Pete nodded in approval. "That's a good idea. I tried before to call Perry and you, but our phones wouldn't work in that tunnel."

"We also need to find out what's happening back in the gymnasium," Steve said as he hung up the phone.

"They're probably evacuating," Paul realized. "Gerard was going to pump some kind of gas in there." He peered at him. "Is your cohort still going to go ahead with that?"

Sullen now, his eyes burning with hatred, Gerard glowered. "There was more than one cohort," he said. "Someone will go ahead with it."

Paul cringed. "Oh my gosh, Della!" Switching gears, he dialed Della's phone instead.

"You think Ellena would pump the gas?" Steve frowned.

"No, but I don't think we should take the chance," Paul retorted. "I don't trust that dame."

Della answered after only one ring. "Hello?!"

"Della, what's going on?" Paul demanded. "Is Dr. Stuart evacuating?"

"I don't know," Della answered, to Paul's horror. "I'm not with him."

"Della, for the love of Pete! Where are you?!" Paul cried.

"I went looking for everyone else!" Della retorted. "And it's a good thing I did; that horrible Gerard almost killed Perry!"

"What?! But he's alright, isn't he?" Paul gasped.

"I don't know!" Della fretted. "He left with Sergeant Brice."

Paul's stomach dropped. "Gerard's saying Sergeant Brice is probably dead. We've got him here."

"We?"

"I found Steve and Pete," Paul said with impatience.

"Well, Sergeant Brice is alright," Della told him. "Or he was when I saw him. He was wearing a bullet-resistant vest when Gerard shot him."

Steve's shoulders slumped in his relief. "Thank God."

Paul and Pete also relaxed immensely. "So what's going on now?" Paul asked.

"Well, the paramedics took Eliza away," Della reported. "Gerard shot her too. Now Ms. Gwynne and I are trying to get back to the gym. Or to Perry and Sergeant Brice. We're not sure where they were going."

"We're in Dr. Stuart's office," Paul said. "Do you know if you're near that?"

"I think we are," Della said hopefully.

"Great. So we'll meet up and go on from there. Meanwhile, I'll try calling Perry and Burger." Paul paused. "And watch out for wild holograms."

"We will!" Della assured him. "We've already seen two of them."

"Oh brother," Paul cringed. He hung up, praying that everyone would be alright.

xxxx

Aaron had decided they really couldn't afford to wait any longer. He was just gathering the staff together to give them instructions on the evacuation procedure when Hamilton's phone rang. "It's Paul," Hamilton announced. "Wait just a minute, Dr. Stuart. This might be important."

Aaron was agreeable to that. He waited tensely while Hamilton took the call. Upon seeing Hamilton look unsure of what to think as he hung up, Aaron impatiently exclaimed, "Well?! What is it?"

"I'm not sure," Hamilton said slowly. "The woman and the man are both no longer threats, but the man insists he has other people helping him. Paul wasn't sure if he just meant Ellena or not. He talked to Della and she seems to be alright."

"So what do we do?" Aaron demanded.

"I would say we'd better evacuate, just in case there is someone else," Hamilton said. "Paul told me that the Gerard character tried to impersonate a Grim Reaper. He doesn't know the other one is Wade, but he knew that casting suspicion on the other Reaper would help him. Maybe another cohort is right here at the ball."

"If they're already here, evacuating won't help," Aaron worried.

"I know," Hamilton said grimly. "If there was just a way to find out!"

Marian, who had been listening to the conversation, suddenly exclaimed, "How about a costume contest?"

Both Hamilton and Aaron turned to her in a bit of bewilderment. "A costume contest?" Hamilton looked incredulous.

Marian nodded. "We'll judge the best costumes in several categories and then everyone will have to unmask and show us who they are."

Aaron brightened. "That's a great idea! And it's a way to try to get to the bottom of this without creating more panic!"

Marian beamed, happy to have said something helpful. "I'll set it up right now," she said, hurrying to the front of the room and the microphone.

Aaron watched her fondly, then looked across the gym to study everyone's reactions to her announcement. "Keep watch on all the doors," he told Hamilton. "See if anyone tries to sneak out so they won't have to be unmasked."

"Right," Hamilton nodded. He caught sight of a Grim Reaper in the shadows near another door and had to hope that one was Wade.

Overall, there was nothing but enthusiasm for the costume contest. The students were still weirded out by the bizarre hologram that had pounded on the door and were eager to put their minds to something else. But as they crowded around and prepared to parade their costumes across the room, one person quietly separated from the crowd and began to melt into the shadows.

"Stop that witch!" Hamilton yelled to those closest, and immediately thought how strange that sounded out of context.

Gene Torg and Pearl Chute moved forward, grabbing hold of the woman by her arms. "Hey!" she snarled. "What is this? Let go of me!"

"We don't know what it is," Gene retorted.

"But I'm sure our district attorney will be happy to explain," Pearl added.

Gene frowned. "And hey, your voice sounds familiar." He reached out, removing the mask. "Jane Madsen! You showed me Tobin Wade's cabin!"

Hamilton and Aaron ran up just as Gene made his pronouncement. At the same moment, Perry and Brice entered through the door Jane had been about to leave through.

"Jane Madsen?!" Hamilton cried. "What in the name of . . ."

Perry didn't seem as surprised. "Hello, Carola."

Jane, or Carola, or whoever she was, looked at Perry with smoldering eyes. "How did you know?" she finally asked, grudgingly.

"I guessed," Perry said calmly. "I knew there was at least one sister of Eliza's mixed up in this mess—Carola. And I just saw Eliza less than fifteen minutes ago. You strikingly resemble her."

"You!" cried the Grim Reaper in the room as he made his way over to her. "If you're Jane and Carola both, then you're the one who's been making the cabin appear haunted. Why?!"

Carola looked to him with a start. "That voice. . . . But no . . . it can't be. . . ."

"It is." Tobin Wade removed the hood, glowering at Carola. "Nevermind how it is. Why have you been haunting my cabin?"

Carola looked away. "Just to further the plot," she muttered.

"But Ellena didn't know about that, did she?" Tobin prompted.

"No, she didn't. We kept her in the dark on a lot of things."

"What about the guy who died up there?" Gene cried indignantly. "I ended up suspected of killing him!"

"That was just a dumb accident," Carola scowled. "He was prowling up where he shouldn't have been and got scared out of his tree by the haunted stuff."

"But surely you must have known there was a chance of something like that happening," Brice frowned, "especially when the property was near a drop-off."

"It was still an accident," Carola muttered. "He wasn't supposed to die."

"What about everyone in the gymnasium?" Perry pressed. "Your friend Gerard planned to pipe gas in here. Lethal?"

Carola looked up with a start. "No!" she insisted. "It was just a harmless sleeping gas. Dr. Stuart was the only one here who was supposed to die, if anyone was."

"But why?" Aaron cried. "What could I have ever possibly done to you?"

"Nothing," Carola retorted. "It had nothing to do with revenge, or Wade, or anything like that. It was just a cover. I found out from someone I knew on the construction crew that there was oil under the property. We conspired to have it for ourselves after the project was finished."

"Oil?" Aaron echoed in amazed disbelief.

"And am I right in assuming that your inside man on the construction crew didn't live long enough to participate in this scheme?" Perry frowned, unfazed by the announcement.

"He's the idiot who gave the necklace to Torg," Carola grumbled.

"What?!" Gene yelped.

"Eliza hid some stolen jewelry in the school," Carola scowled. "Including the necklace."

The other missing groups were coming in just as she said this. "What?" Della exclaimed in shock. "Why?"

"Jane Madsen?!" Paul burst out, staring at the woman whom he had met twice in the past days.

Seeing Tobin, Janet went pale and stumbled, but didn't cry out. Della reached to steady her.

Carola looked to them and then back to Perry. "We knew Ellena was bound to that necklace," she said. "She'd tried possessing people before. Frankly, we didn't want her involved in things. She's too much of a party girl and doesn't take a lot of things seriously."

"She took her revenge on Dr. Stuart seriously," Della retorted. "Misguided though it was."

"Yeah, well, anyway. So Eliza hid the jewelry in the tunnel, in one of the secret compartments we'd prepared for the hologram projectors. Only that construction guy had to find it." Carola snarked, shaking her head. "He thought he'd hit the jackpot. He sold most of the jewelry, but he couldn't get rid of the necklace. People kept bringing it back claiming it was haunted. Then he found out for himself. Boy, he couldn't get rid of it soon enough."

"Is he still alive?" Gene asked warily.

"Sure," Carola shrugged. "But Gerard was going to kill him once he realized he wouldn't be a party to murder."

"He just wanted to scare Aaron Stuart off the property, I take it," Perry said.

"That's right. Only he wasn't scaring, so Gerard figured we'd have to take it to the next level." Carola looked to Della. "He also decided to kill you and have Ellena sealed away for good."

"That's terrible!" Della cried. "Ellena thought he was her friend." In her mind, she could feel Ellena's anger and rage. But even if Ellena was hoping to take control, Della's hold on her body was firm. Ellena could not take over.

Carola laughed. "Haven't you ever heard there's no honor among thieves?"

"That isn't always true," Steve grunted, "although it sure is in this case."

"Here's a question _I_ have," Hamilton suddenly said. "How did Eliza Madsen get the necklace with Ellena in the first place? It was stolen on the night of her death!" His eyes widened. "Eliza didn't . . ."

"No," Carola quickly inserted. "None of us did. But the murderer, some two-bit thief, tried to pawn the necklace. Eliza recognized it from some pictures I had and bought it."

Della relaxed. "I'm glad to know that!"

"And I suppose the plan was either to frighten or kill Aaron Stuart, hoping that the school would fail and you could buy the property for far less than it's worth," Perry frowned.

"Something like that," Carola muttered.

"And I think everything is just about wrapped up, Lieutenant," Brice said, looking to him. "That is, if the holograms are stopped."

"Oh, he finally told us how to shut them off remotely," Steve said, eyeing Gerard. "That's done."

"Great," Brice said in relief.

"Although I'd still like to know if you knew about the trapdoor in your office, Dr. Stuart," Steve said, looking to a stunned Aaron.

"Why, no," Aaron gasped. "I had no idea."

"Neither of us did," Marian said firmly, taking Aaron's uninjured arm.

"Alright, I believe you," Steve said in resignation.

"And now we also finally know that Mr. Selkirk's death was an accident," said Brice.

Steve nodded, pleased that the information had been obtained. "Maybe so, but these people will still have to stand trial for it, since it happened directly because of something they were doing to hurt someone else." He was still firmly holding onto Gerard, who gave him a frothing look in response.

"And using my property to do it," Tobin said in disgust as he came forward.

That was the one thing Gerard had not expected. "You . . . what . . . Wade?!" He went sheet-white. " _You_ were that pesky Grim Reaper?"

"That's right," Tobin said, "and judging from your appearance, you decided to try to frame me for some other crime of yours."

"But how?!" Gerard wailed.

"Actually," Tobin said with a bit of a smirk, "I've been right under your nose the whole time. I'm David Solomon."

Gerard gave a disbelieving, furious cry that choked in his throat.

Steve shook his head. "This is a new one on me, too," he said. "It explains a lot of things. Paul, you were really holding back a whopper of an announcement."

Paul shrugged. "Sorry, Steve, but I didn't think this character should know about it too soon."

"You made the right decision," Steve assured him. "And the squad car should be here by now. They were going to pull up outside that door." He nodded to the one on the opposite wall. "I'll just cut through here with him."

"And I'll come with you, Lieutenant, as soon as I read Ms. Madsen her rights," Brice said.

Steve looked back. "Good. Oh, and Sergeant . . ." He smiled. "I'm glad you're alright."

Brice smiled too. "So am I," he declared.

"We all are," Della said fondly. But then she paused, hearing Ellena's voice in her head.

" _Della . . . will you let me have control for just one little moment more? I . . . I want to talk to Tobin."_

Della froze. If she mentioned that to Perry or any of the others, they would most vehemently protest, and she couldn't blame them. After everything Ellena had done, was it really safe to give in?

She bit her lip. Everything Ellena had done had been because of her feelings for Tobin. Knowing that he was alive had changed her entire perspective.

"Alright," she said quietly, relaxing the mental barrier she had set up. "One moment."

Hamilton stiffened as he saw Della's eyes shift to green. "Perry," he started to say in alarm.

Ellena walked up to Tobin before Perry could respond or react. "Tobin . . . I . . . I'm glad you're alive." She smiled, genuinely happy for him, but sad for herself.

Tobin knew in an instant that she had assumed control. "I am too, but I'm sorry you're not," he said quietly.

Ellena nodded. "I could stay on, like this. . . . I've done it for years. It's how I heard about your death in the first place. . . . I was already dead by then." She looked down. "But . . . it's kind of a pointless way to go on. And it messes up what other people want. I . . . I don't want to do that to Della anymore, or to anyone else. I think now, I . . . I'm ready to move on."

Tobin laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad," he said.

"But I expect I'll come back to visit now and then," Ellena said. "If that will be allowed."

Tobin smiled sadly. "I think it might be."

"Well . . . okay then." Ellena slowly drew him into a hug. "Goodbye, Tobin."

Tobin swiftly returned it. "Goodbye, Ellena."

" _Goodbye, Della,"_ Della heard in her mind just before control of her body was given back to her again.

"Della?" Perry said urgently.

She turned to look at him. "It's me, Perry," she smiled. "I'm alright. Ellena asked me if she could say goodbye to Mr. Wade and I said she could."

Perry shook his head. "After everything she did, you trusted that she wouldn't lie to you again?"

"Yes, I did," Della said quietly. "And she came through." She paused. "I'm relieved that it's over, and I certainly would never want to share my body with her or any other spirit, but . . . I still feel kind of sad at how she left."

"I'm sure Ellena will be able to move on now," Tobin told her. "And hopefully she'll find happiness now."

"I hope so," Della said sincerely. "And what are you going to do, Mr. Wade?"

Tobin turned to look around. Long ago, the majority of the partygoers had tuned in to the heated conversation near the door, realizing it was the most entertaining thing at the moment. Most of them didn't know who he was, but the staff from the old Manzana Valley Prep School definitely did. Gasps of shock and disbelief went up.

Janet just shook her head. "Miss Street told me about you while we were wandering around," she finally said, "but it's still hard to believe."

"I know," Tobin replied. "Sometimes it's still hard for _me_ to believe."

Aaron hesitated. "Are you going back to that car shop?"

"That's where I've made a life for myself now," Tobin said. "I owe it to Amos to go back . . . as long as the danger's past. I'll probably stick around here for the rest of the evening to make sure."

Aaron shifted. "Thank you, Tobin, for everything you've done. You put yourself at a great risk to help us."

"And in the past I put my friendships at great risk and let them be decimated," Tobin said in disgust. "That can never be forgiven."

Marian hesitated, but then laid a hand on Tobin's arm. "You are our friend from before," she said softly. "You came back. No, that doesn't take away the more recent past, but it certainly softens it, at least for me."

Tobin looked at her in surprise and a bit of longing. "Sadder and wiser, but yes, I am your friend again. Thank you, for saying that." He wanted the forgiveness for which he would never ask. But he gave a wan smile and turned away, again pulling up the hood.

Della stepped back near Perry. "I never thought I'd say this about a man who did the horrible things Tobin Wade did, but I feel kind of sorry for him now," she said quietly. "Maybe he deserves to be alone after he turned against his friends out of greed, but still, when he's trying to do the right thing now, I rather wish that he could have another chance at those friendships."

Perry smiled, bringing an arm around Della's shoulders. "Don't count the Stuarts out just yet," he said. "I think they'll come around to that way of thinking. Tobin Wade is definitely not the man he was when he betrayed them. They can see that. And even though they need a little time to get used to the idea, they miss their friend as much as he misses them." He paused. "As for myself, I'm grateful to have _my_ friend back."

Della smiled too. "That makes two of us," she declared.


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

While the students of Manzana Valley Prep School worked to salvage the masquerade ball by reviving the dancing and dining once the criminals were taken away, Perry and Della decided to sit it out for a while. They slipped to the back of the room, just enjoying watching the students as they talked.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you as soon as Ellena released you from her control on the stairs," Perry said quietly.

"You needed to help the Stuarts," Della said with a gentle smile. "It's alright."

Perry sighed. "I'm glad Sergeant Brice was there for you then." He looked down at his hands, twisting the ring around his little finger. "It . . . must have been horrible to have Ellena invading your body and controlling it to do whatever she wanted."

Della looked down too. "It was . . . frightening," she admitted. "Very frightening. At first I didn't know _what_ was going on, and then when I did, it wasn't much better." She looked up again. "I guess it's strange to end up feeling any kind of compassion for Ellena at all, especially after she actually tried to kill Dr. Stuart, but . . . I feel like in the end, she was a troubled and mixed-up girl who relied far too much on her emotions. And I honestly hope she's finding the peace denied to her during the six years she's been dead."

"Oh . . . I don't find it strange that _you_ would manage to find compassion for her," Perry said. "But I doubt that everything she did was motivated by her feelings for Wade. Her partying certainly had nothing to do with that."

Della sighed. "I know, but maybe anyone would feel like partying a little if they'd been dead for six years and had another chance to experience a little bit of living again."

Perry shook his head. "On the one hand, I should really scold you for being compassionate towards those who would just abuse your kindness. But on the other hand . . . how do I scold you for one of the things that most makes you you?"

Della smiled a bit. "Thank you.

"I wonder what's going to happen to that necklace."

"I believe after the trial it's going to be repaired and sent back to the woman it was stolen from," Perry said. "Sergeant Brice said she's still interested in it and doesn't care about the rumors that it's haunted. Anyway, I suppose by now it isn't."

"I hope not," Della said. "It couldn't have been very happy for Ellena to stay bound to it. And I'm sure it wouldn't be fun for the owner to discover a spirit attached to it."

"No, I wouldn't think so," Perry grunted.

"Poor Mr. Burger," Della said suddenly. "How will he ever figure out how to conduct the trial?"

"Oh, I'm sure he'll find a way to do it without bringing up all of the supernatural aspects of the case," Perry said. "As long as he doesn't have to tell what happened on the stairs."

Della shuddered. "I don't know how he'll possibly be able to keep Ellena out of it altogether. She's really a huge part of it."

Perry nodded. "He's going to try anyway, though," he said. "Neither he nor I want to see you put through that stress."

That brought a smile. Della knew it would be almost impossible to explain her part in things, since as they all knew, the law didn't recognize possession. She had to hope that Hamilton would indeed find a way around that problem.

She glanced across the room to where Aaron and Marian were. "What do you think is going to happen to the Stuarts?"

"About the oil or about Tobin Wade?" Perry deadpanned.

"Both," Della replied.

"Oh, I imagine Aaron will decide to start pumping the oil, as long as it can be done without disturbing things at the school. His first interest is keeping the school open."

"I hope everything that's happened won't give him a lot of negative publicity," Della said in concern.

"I think that by now he's established himself enough that it won't be a problem," Perry said. "As for Wade . . . judging by the seriousness of their conversation, they're probably discussing him now."

Perry was right. At the other side of the room, Marian was looking around the gym. "I don't see him anywhere now," she remarked in concern. "I wonder if he's left."

"It's hard to say." Aaron sighed, placing his hands on the table.

Marian looked to him in both concern and compassion. "Aaron . . ."

"I know that after all this Tobin has pretty much proved himself a changed man," Aaron went on, gazing into the distance. "And I suppose that I'll be considered terrible if I can't just up and mark the past closed. But you know what he did back then, Marian!" He turned to look at his wife. "He pulled every dirty trick in the book to give the school and us a bad reputation. Getting you to drink when he knew what it would do to you . . . that was the very worst thing. I don't know if I can ever forgive him for that, even if I can forgive him for framing me for manslaughter. I don't know; maybe he thought Perry could get me off, but that doesn't excuse it. And what he did to you . . ." He clenched a fist.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive him for what he did to you," Marian said softly, laying a hand on Aaron's arm. "But the Tobin Wade we saw tonight . . . that wasn't that man."

"Even if we can possibly forgive, how can we ever really trust him again?" Aaron said despairingly. "Long ago we pledged our oath up at that blasted Topanga cabin. Friends to the bitter end. Ha!" He shook his head. "Tobin broke that oath. And alright, so now he's trying to look out for us and make sure we're kept safe. What guarantee do we have that he won't someday get greedy again and turn against us again? He's even afraid of that himself; he said that's why he took a mechanic's job."

"We don't have any guarantee," Marian admitted. "But when he's worried himself, maybe that only further proves that he's changed for the better and he won't allow himself to be tempted again."

Aaron heaved a sigh. "What do you think we should do, Marian?"

"I really don't know," she said softly. "Everything you've said is true. But it's also true that things have never been the same without him. We were a team for so many years. I miss those times every day, and I know you do."

"It will never be the same as it was then, no matter what we do," Aaron cautioned.

"I know that," Marian insisted.

"I don't want to have a greedy backstabber around who will just manipulate us like puppets for his own selfish purposes and masquerade as our best friend all the while." The hurt and bitterness were heavy in Aaron's voice.

Understanding, Marian hugged him. "I don't want that either," she declared. "But I still want our best friend—the real one, not the pretender. And . . . I don't know, I think that now he's returned to us."

Aaron reached up to lay his hands on her arms. "Maybe after a good night's sleep, the morning will bring fresh perspectives," he suggested. "I don't think we should do anything about it tonight."

Marian nodded. "That's fair enough."

Della leaned back as their conversation ended and they separated to tend to the party. "I wonder what they've decided."

"Maybe nothing for now," Perry said in gentle amusement at her interest. "This isn't something that can be easily determined in a few minutes while Halloween songs blare in the background."

"Oh, I know that," Della objected. "And Perry, don't you wonder why on Earth the morgue didn't report Tobin Wade's body missing?"

"I do," Perry nodded. "Perhaps the person on duty was too horrified and embarrassed that it happened on his shift and he didn't want to say anything for fear of losing his job. But if he would keep quiet about something that important, we should know about it. On the other hand, maybe that isn't the reason. Wade didn't seem to know how long he'd been dead when he came back to himself and left the morgue. We know it must have been after the police were done with his body or they would have been inquiring after it. Maybe he had been sent on by then to be prepared for burial and he slipped away before any of that could be done."

Della shivered. "I wonder who's buried in his grave."

"I imagine the police will be very curious about that as well," Perry remarked. "They'll probably get out a court order in the next few days to have the body exhumed."

"That's a little too eerily appropriate for the season," Della frowned. Wanting a change of subject, she said, "I'm glad that none of the new Manzana Valley Prep School staff was mixed up in this case."

"So am I," Perry said. "It was just two of the Madsen sisters, Gerard, and that construction worker. A third sister, Iona, helped them here and there, but she didn't even know what was really going on. I'm sure the Stuarts are relieved."

"No doubt." Della paused. "I wonder what the staff thinks now that they know Pete Kelton isn't really a gym teacher."

"Oh, they're sad to lose him, but probably used to it," Perry said. "Who knows—maybe the publicity from the case will be positive and it will attract someone who wants the position full-time."

"That's a nice thought," Della declared. She perked up as a new song started.

Perry smiled as he noticed. "Now what are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking that we should try to have a little fun tonight," Della said. "After all, we're at a party. I think even Gene Torg and Pearl Chute are enjoying themselves now." She nodded to where those two were starting to dance.

"In that case . . ." Perry stood. "Would you like to dance?"

Della beamed and followed suit. "Yes, I would."

xxxx

The story was plastered across every major newspaper in both Los Angeles and Manzana counties the next morning. When Tobin Wade arrived at Amos Berry's Car Shop for work, he found the old man scowling and holding up a newspaper.

"So this is what you've been holding back, eh?" Amos growled. "You're that Tobin Wade fella that got himself killed after doing a bunch of rotten things to his best friends?"

Tobin cringed but nodded. "That's right."

"And this stuff you've been involving yourself with the last few days . . . you were really trying to help the friends you'd hurt?"

"Yes," Tobin said. "Look, if you want to fire me because I'm not what you thought . . ."

"Eh. As long as you plan to keep working hard, there's a place for you here," Amos said gruffly.

"I'll probably work harder now," Tobin replied. "The case is over; there won't be anything for me to get distracted by. Well, at least until the hearing and the trial, that is. I'll have to testify."

"Good," Amos humphed. "Oh, just one thing, though—what should I call you now?"

"I'll answer to either name," Tobin told him.

"Well . . . you're David to me, but that's not even who you are, so I'll call you Tobin Wade, I reckon." Amos nodded to himself.

"That's fine," Tobin said.

He went into the back and found the first car of the day. As he worked, he swiftly became lost in thought.

The case had unfolded much differently than he had imagined. But at least it had ended on a positive note; Aaron was still alive and well. So was Marian. They would be able to go back to their lives without fear.

And now Tobin was back to his life, the life he had chosen as David Solomon. He would hold to his promise and not go around the Stuarts again. Even in court, he wouldn't deliberately seek them out. They had suffered enough because of him; they shouldn't have to deal with him being around again.

It wasn't until lunch that he took a break. And when he did, the sight of Aaron and Marian slowly making their way into the car shop nearly caused him to drop his wrench in shock.

"H-Hello," he stammered. "Aaron . . . Marian. . . . What are you doing _here?_ I thought you'd want to stay as far away from here as possible."

"Frankly, I wasn't sure _what_ I wanted," Aaron replied. "But Marian is a lot more sure of herself." He looked to his wife with fondness.

Marian glanced to him and then to the stunned Tobin. "We all know things will never be what they once were," she said softly. "And I'm not sure either of us has forgiven the old you for what you did. But . . . you're a new you now. And . . . well, we'd like to invite the new you to lunch."

"If you . . . don't have any other plans, of course," Aaron stammered now.

"Why, no," Tobin said in surprise. "No, I don't." He set the wrench down and walked with his friends out of the car shop, marveling and rejoicing.

And looking on, unseen by them, a blonde-haired, green-eyed woman smiled.


End file.
